Love Vow
by TheFirstSolution
Summary: Harry is offered the power of the Geass from a girl in the middle of the street one day. Now with the ability to make every woman fall in love with him just by being in his presence, his life in thrown into a spiral of romance, drama and broken expectations. Every female in Hogwarts seems to want a piece of him, whilst dark plots brew under the shadow of the Triwizard Tournament.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, Code Geass and all their rights belong to their respective authors and publishers, no copyright infringement or profit is intended with this work. Author's Notes: Hello, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to a band-new romcom featuring your favorite characters from the Harry Potter universe. This is supposed to be light Code Geass crossover as in none of the CG characters shall be appearing, but the abilities and a few of the themes will. Also note that this is an ADULT STORY and not intended for underage eyes, so please do not continue reading if you're not of age, and/or are easily offended by adult material. If you do continue though, I hope you have a great time and enjoy reading as much as I did writing.**

 **Warning: Incest**

* * *

The raindrops fell endlessly over Harry's face, each a cold needle against his skin. He laid on the ground, body throbbing in pain, while the sky fell over him. Of all the beatings his stupid cousin had managed to unleash through the years of their childhood, this one took the crown by far; a complete thrashing involving all the members of Dudley's little gang, each more eager than the other. The sight of Harry beaten up, sprawled on the floor of the children's playground must have been a sorry sight for whoever happened to pass by the place. How did this happen?

It was the summer after Harry's third year in Hogwarts, the year he had found he had a godfather by the name of Sirius Black, who was known in worlds, the wizarding and the muggle, as a mass murderer and extremely dangerous criminal. He was innocent, of course, but somehow Harry never quite got around to telling his family that. And so being a freak with magical powers and the godson of a murdering lunatic had got Harry quite the long way in the Dursleys' household that summer. No more endless chores, no more 'forgetting' to cook his food portion, even Uncle Vernon wouldn't raise his voice as loud as before when insulting him. Thus, Harry had never felt as safe as he did that then. Overconfidence was, as it is in most cases, his downfall.

It had been stupid, now that he thought about it. His cousin and his band of henchmen, the playground, and their usual attitude towards Harry. All of it, really. He could have run after rebutting their insults like he always did, but instead, he had stayed, provoked and teased Dudley back until his cousin was ready to boil, confident the bigger boy wouldn't raise his fist. The worst though, it hadn't been even Dudley who hit him first, but rather one of his underlings, a new one Harry didn't know the name of and was apparently a little bolder than the rest. If Dudley had been restraining himself, that stopped then.

 _Stupid_ , Harry thought, fighting the ache in his head.

It was then he noticed the rain had stopped. He opened his eyes slowly, to see a dark silhouette standing above him, blocking the faint light of the clouded sun and raindrops from reaching his face. He squinted, trying to focus his glasses-less eyes, but gave up when it proved useless. Next, he felt a gentle, but firm hand holding his shoulder down as the familiar feeling of his spectacles settled over his eyes. He blinked a few times, bringing the figure into focus.

A small girl crouched next to him, left hand holding an umbrella up above them, and staring down expressionlessly at Harry. Dark long hair, dark eyes, a strange symbol tattooed on her forehead, and wearing a frilly all-black dress, she was possibly the strangest person he had ever, and Harry had visited the Diagon Alley.

"Are you okay?" she spoke with a soft voice. "Your glasses are broken."

Indeed, they were; a long crack ran from one end to the other of his right lens. _They must have fallen off after the first punch_. Still, the lens would need replacing, and that was something his relatives had done only once before, warning him it had been the last as well.

Harry groaned. "Thanks, I'm fine," he replied, sitting up. The pain was starting to let up, to become more of a dull ache in his muscles. He looked around the park, searching for signs of other people and finding none. Under the rain, they were alone. "Thanks," he repeated. "What about you, why are in the rain? Where are your parents?"

"I was looking for you, Harry Potter," was her answer.

Harry stared at her, and she stared back.

"Do you know me?"

"Of course, I know all there is to know about you," replied the child.

The rain poured around them, drowning out all noise that could escape to the ears of somebody else across the streets. Still, Harry turned his head around, to certify no one was listening in on them.

"Are you a witch?" he said, wondering what one of his kind would be doing in a muggle neighbourhood. Nothing good, he imagined, judging by what she had just said.

"I have been called that before," she replied, rising to her full height. No taller his chest if he were to stand, she was really a kid. "And I'm not a child," the girl replied with a hint of irritation as if she could read his mind.

"Okay, hmm nice to... meet you? You already know my name though," Harry said, staring into her unblinking eyes. _Who the hell is this girl?_

"My name is D.D.," said the girl imperiously. "And you, Harry Potter, are my chosen."

Harry blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I have chosen you to perform a contract with me," D.D. said. "You, among all the wizards in the world. I shall give you the power to change your fate; a power you desire, and in return, you will grant me a wish of mine."

 _Okay, this girl isn't normal_. In his years at Hogwarts, Harry had had many run-ins with the abnormal, even the abnormal other witchfolk would find hard to meet in the course of their whole lives. Yet this girl dressed all in black with a tattooed forehead and talking about contracts and powers was quickly shaping up the weirdest encounter of his life.

"Err, I think I'll pass," Harry said, rising to his feet and getting out of her umbrella. "Thanks anyway, and take care on the way back!" he smiled apolitically, already turning around, hoping to get away as quickly as possible.

"Don't you at least want to know what I can give you? Isn't there something you have wanted for a long time?" Her voice stopped him on his feet, the faces of his parents flashing in his mind. He turned back to face the girl, as a small smile crept across her face.

 _What the hell, might as well play along for a little bit._

"Okay, what is it then?" he said, walking up to her. The little girl, D.D., raised her right arm. Her hand right up to her elbow was encased in a pitch black, long frilly kinda glove, that Harry imagined with its twin on her left arm was part of the strange goth outfit.

"Take it off. Gently."

Hesitantly, he did so. Touching the top point her middle finger, he began pulling off the glove, and watched as it slowly gave way to the creamy white underneath. There was something oddly erotic about the wet piece of cloth sliding along the skin, and Harry caught himself blushing at the thought. _What the fuck Harry, she's only a child, she looks no older than ten for Merlin's sake!_

"Good," she said, smiling wider. "Now hold my hand."

With a gulp, Harry brought his own hand closer to hers until their palms were touching. Her hand was small and warm and so very soft; impossibly delicate, impossibly tender. As if hypnotized, he let them stay like that for a few seconds.

"Fufu, I said hold, Harry," she said with a teasing smile and intertwined their fingers together.

Harry was struck by lightning.

Or at least felt like he did. A sudden jolt went through his body, and images began to flash through his head like photographs. A planet in the distance vastness of space. A group of women with tattoos on their forehead. Two giant machines connected by a beam of light. The site of Stonehenge alive and brimming with people, dancing and singing around a fire. Two men and two women gathered over a cliff, waving their wands around a giant cube. A withered small thing gazing hatefully into the fire.

All the while the girl's voice spoke inside his mind.

 _You who have been alone all this time, without knowing affection, without knowing what it means to be loved, shall be given the chance to taste it all, to gorge on what has been so long denied to you. The Heart of Eros will deliver you from the darkness you're drowning in, or pull you to the very depths. And in return, only a small favour is required from you. Do you accept?_

And Harry _understood_ it, what was being offered. The Heart of Eros, the power to be loved. This was no mere trick, no love potion's smoke and mirrors, it was real and true, beyond of reach of mere magicks. His mind went back to all the years with the Dursleys, all the lonely nights he spends under the cupboard, crying himself to sleep wishing his mother was there with him. All the times they reminded him he was no family of them. All the Christmas's the other kids spend with their parents and loved ones, while he spends alone. All the loving looks others received, while he would count himself blessed with indifference. No more.

 _I accept it._

 _Good. Contract formed._

Just as sudden, he was back in the real world, under the pouring rain. D.D stared at their intertwined fingers, a pleased smile on her small pink lips. Strangely, Harry did not feel any different, but he knew the power was within him. What magic is this?

"What's your wish?" he asked, as he let go of her hand.

"You can't grant it right now, so there's no need to tell you yet. Eventually, you shall be ready, and then, and only then, I will return to collect the price."

"I understand."

Harry looked up at the dark-clouded sky; the storm showed no sign of breaking anytime soon. He and his clothes were as wet as someone could ever be, but he saw no point to keep standing under the rain.

"I – I think I'll be going now. Will you be alright?"

"Quite, you need not worry about me," she said, peering at him from under her umbrella. Harry caught himself expecting her tattoo again. A curious shape for the letter 'V' maybe, or maybe the front of a bird in flight. He wondered what it meant. "We will meet again, Harry, until then do not be afraid to use your power."

With that, she turned around and walked off into the heavy curtain of water, and before long he could not see her anymore. He turned and headed home.

0000000

After waiting a reasonably long amount of time by the Dursleys' doorsteps to wait for his clothes to dry enough so as they would not be dripping water, Harry walked inside the house, just to meet right up with Aunt Petunia, who was cleaning the floor at the moment. As soon she saw him, her eyes went as wide as saucers and the blood seemed to drain from her face.

"What do you think you're doing?!" she shrieked, appalled as if Harry had just killed her husband and dragged his corpse inside still dripping blood on her carpet.

"I got caught in the rain," Harry explained as if it wasn't obvious.

"I can see that!" she snapped, "Why did you come inside?! Should have waited outside."

 _I did that_. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia, I'll come back later," Harry said, reaching for the doorknob behind him, guessing it would be pointless to argue with her. Before entering, he had hoped he would not meet anyone before reaching his room.

Aunt Petunia scoffed. "It's too late now, you've already dirtied the floor. Just go up."

Huh? His aunt missing on an opportunity to make his life more miserable? That was unusual, even counting the time he spends just outside her door. Was the power already working? From the knowledge that had seeped into his head, he knew it would take awhile being around other people for the of The Heart of Eros, his Geass, to take effect on them. But that was sooner than he had expected. _Well it doesn't look like she loves me or anything, she was just a bit nicer, but maybe her hate and the love weight themselves out?_ Still, he would take a nice Petunia any day of the week over the outright hateful one she had always been.

When he was finally inside his bedroom, he walked out of his clothes, throwing them on a damp pile by the corner of his room and laid down heavily on his bed. Merlin, he felt so tired now, and his body still ached from the beating, courtesy of Dudley and his cretins earlier the day. But what really weighed on him was the encounter with the small black-clad girl, D.D. It was brief but so intense he had questioned himself several times already if he had not hallucinated the whole episode.

Thinking about the event and listening to clash of rain against his window, Harry fell asleep.

Next morning he woke up to the chilly and damp air in his room. He put on his spectacles after rubbing the sleep from his eyes and saw the weather still cloudy outside. _Damn, I should not have slept naked_. He rose up to stand and put on a towel to cover himself below the navel and left to wash.

The bathroom was in the corridor, a couple feet farther from his door. Just when he was about to reach for the door, it opened with a sudden jolt that almost hit him in the face. His aunt walked out, a towel wrapped around her body from just above her chest to almost the junction of her legs, her damp blonde hair falling over her bare shoulders.

"Oh, it's you," she said drily when she noticed him. Petunia ran her eyes over his body quickly, turned around and walked off to her and Vernon's room after saying, "don't mess up the bathroom."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said under his breath.

Once inside, he got the shower running and took a minute to inspect himself in the mirror over the sink. Though his face was spared the worst of the beating, his body was full of bruises, and many had already begun to purple overnight. He touched one of them one and winced as the pain shot through his body. Watching his strained face look back at him from the mirror, he noticed something he was sure wasn't there the day before. There, in his right eye, the strange symbol that had been on the girl's forehead now shone faintly red.

He blinked and blinked again, but the little flying bird remained, unchanging. _Is this the Geass?_ He hadn't thought it would be anything physical since a lot of the magic he saw in Hogwarts was pretty much invisible and most that are not tended to be of the aggressive type. He wondered how he would explain it to the others. Though seeing that Aunt Petunia hadn't said anything about it, could it be that only he could see it? He would have to test that theory later, with both muggles and magicals.

Later, after finishing his hot shower and putting on some of his cousin's old clothes, he went down to help prepare the breakfast. The kitchen was cold with humid air that came from outside, but Aunt Petunia stood diligently by the stove as she did every morning. As usual, she cooked the eggs in a frying pan and had another set aside for Harry to cook the bacon. He started to work without a word.

Uncle Vernon and Dudley came down not long after. The little fat bastard (the son, not the father) just sat on a chair like the most normal thing in the world, like he and his friends hadn't just beat the shit out of Harry the day before. Worse, he didn't even have the guts to look Harry in the eyes as he sat down. _Oh, too afraid I might set Sirius on you, coward?_

But there was nothing Harry could do now, he knew, so he finished the breakfast and sat to eat. The meal was a quiet affair, with Vernon's sunk in his newspaper; Dudley in less than speaking terms with his parents, because of his last year's grades, and pretending his cousin didn't exist. Harry and Aunt Petunia had only each other to make conversation with, which meant, of course, they had no one at all.

 _I don't know, maybe the Geass will maker_ her _want to open to me eventually?_ Speaking of which, had the power began to take effect on his uncle and cousin yet? How long would it take? Harry only knew his Geass worked in the vicinity around him, more specifically on a circle to which he was the centre of, like a fountain that poured water in all directions. _Who knows, perhaps I'll have him on his knees apologizing before the end of the day._ The thought didn't exactly make him happy, but a little bit of justice now and then never hurt anyone.

"Achoo!" Harry was brought out of his musings by the sudden urge to sneeze. That drew the eyes of everyone on the table, and he sneezed again before he could contain himself.

"Excuse me," he apologized.

Vernon and Dudley each returned to their meals, but Aunt Petunia spoke up. "There's some medicine cabinet in the cabinet if you have a cold," that drew the eyes of the table back up again, this time to the woman. She cleared her throat, "I don't want you infecting anyone in this house," The others seemed to accept what she said and returned to the food once more.

 _Interesting_. It was certainly a progress, but still not quite to the extent Harry wanted. _It's okay though, if the love tries to overcome the hate she feels for me, it should probably take some time._ At least once his other relatives got caught on the Geass too, his life in their household should improve greatly.

Yet, in the next couple of days, the change he saw was meagre at best. Uncle Vernon remained his usual rude self as long, as Harry didn't mention Sirius, while Dudley walked on eggshells around him, most likely still afraid of his retribution. And Aunt Petunia only grew silent in his presence. It made him question many times the truth of what had transpired that day under the rain and if actually he had hallucinated the whole thing for some reason. But every time he looked in the mirror and saw the strange symbol in his eye he knew it had happened. _Then why isn't this bloody thing working? Do I have to do something to activate it first?_

His answer came sudden one night. Harry was in his room reviewing some summer homework and mostly bored out of his mind when a great ruckus started downstairs. He tried to listen in for a few minutes, enough to identify the heated voices of his relatives arguing with each other. His cousin was the loudest and angriest of them all, shouting threads and not a few obscenities to his parents, but he could also hear the voices of Vernon and even Petunia. Harry knew what they were fighting about; it had only been a couple of days since Dudley's school had advised his parent to seek professional help regarding their son's weight problem, though it certainly didn't take a nutritionist's insight to see that a very strict diet was the only thing that could save him from the operating table.

It took about half an hour before the yelling stopped, and the heavy steps of his cousin came thundering up the stairs. They lasted until he slammed the door of his room shut, locking himself inside like the petulant child he was. A minute of silence and the front door also shut with a loud bang.

 _Wow, that was one for the ages._

Being the doting mother and spoiling father his relatives were, there were seldom fights inside the Dursley household, ones that didn't directly involve Harry that is. And finally being out of the so-called spotlight for once, Harry had all the reasons to keep to himself and let them sort themselves, well away from him. So when he found himself slowly descending the steps to the living room, he couldn't quite explain why.

As Harry walked in, he could make the muffled sniffs that came from behind the sofa facing the electric fireplace. Aunt Petunia, still dressed in the nice purple dress she wore to go to the nutritionist, had the back of her hand to her mouth as she cried softly into it. There were a few instances when he had seen his aunt cry before, and despite all the reason he had to revel at the sight, it somehow always made him uncomfortable.

"Aunt Petunia?" he said tentatively. She almost jumped on her seat at his voice. Turning her head to look at him, she quickly produced a handkerchief and wiped her red eyes and running nose dry.

"What do you want? Go back to your room," she whined, voice hoarse and weak.

"Aunt Petunia, err, are you... okay?" he circled the three-seat couch, to stand awkwardly next to the woman. "What happened?"

She weighed him with her puffy eyes, probably deciding if she ought to scream him away. In the end, it seemed she thought best of it; she sighed and looked down at the immaculate carpet.

"It's my little Dudley," she started. "He doesn't want to start on the new diet. He said it's not real food and nothing in this world will make him eat it."

"And what's the diet made of?" said Harry patiently, sitting down on the sofa a seat away from his aunt.

She did not seem to mind and replied as best she could in her wailing voice. "Oh, some fruits and vegetables, nothing suitable for a growing boy like my Dudley… but they said – they said his health might be at risk if we didn't change some of his habits. We tried to make him listen, but he doesn't want to! And he s-said such awful things, I knew it was a bad idea to let him mingle with rabble like the Polkins. No doubt that son of theirs was the one to teach him such horrible words."

Dudley himself taught Harry most of the bad words he knew, throwing them at him while they played 'Catch Harry' when they were younger. But he guessed his aunt didn't need to hear that at the moment. "Where's Uncle Vernon?" he asked instead.

She began to weep anew. He listened in silence for a few minutes as he waited for her to recompose herself. She once again cleaned her face on the handkerchief before replying, "He's left, I don't know where to. Said it's m-my fault this is happening to our son."

He's not wrong, Harry thought, thinking back on all the times his aunt let Dudley do exactly as he pleased, and all the food she shoved on his plate, urging him to take bigger and bigger portions if sometimes only to leave little and less for Harry. But he wasn't right either; if anything, Uncle Vernon had as much blame in the spoiling of his son as his wife did.

There was no point in saying that though; Harry was never cruel if he could help it. "It's not your fault – you, huh, just thought it was alright since he was getting so strong, right? He just has to watch what he eats for a bit now, it's gonna be alright. And Uncle Vernon gonna come back soon, I bet only went out to clear his head."

Aunt Petunia raised her head to look at him. Red and moist from the tears, her pale blue eyes seemed almost green, only a few shades clearer than his own. They now brimmed with uncertainty, as if seeing him for the first time.

"I know, why don't we all start the diet? That way we can show Dudley it's no big deal, and support him while he has to take it," _what the fuck am I saying_ , "he won't be tempted to cheat and won't be able to say it's not fair."

His aunt stared into the unlit fire, thinking on what he had said. A small smile slowly formed on her lips. "I guess we can do that, it's only fair after all. I'll talk with Vernon once he calms down. Yes, that can work."

Harry gave her a strained smile. It was alright, he didn't have to keep to any stupid diet. He would write to his friends and ask some help once he got back to his room. No harm done. At least not to himself. Satisfied with his good deed for the year, he rose to leave the room and finally go back upstairs.

"Harry," he heard the voice of his aunt call to him, stopping where he stood. The last time she had called him by his name dated from back before he had stopped calling her 'Mom'. To hear she say it now, after so long, was staggering. He turned to face her, eyes wide in surprise, only to be evolved by her long, thin arms. _She's hugging me_ , he thought stupidly. Aunt Petunia was tall for a woman, taller than Harry by few inches. His head came to rest just above her bosom as her arms encircled his shoulders, and somewhere near his ear he heard she say, "Thank you."

"I-It's okay," he stammered in response. She moved away, just enough so that her hands gripped his shoulders, and smiled, showing her shining white teeth.

"Oh, your glasses are broken," she said, brow furrowing, pretending she had just noticed it, and ran a finger along the crack of the lenses, obscuring his right vision for a moment. "I'll take it for replacement tomorrow – you don't have anywhere to go tomorrow, do you?"

Harry merely shook his head.

Once back in his room, Harry could barely suppress his excitement. _It works, it works, it works_ , he kept repeating in his head, a wide grin spreading on his face. He had not mistaken it earlier, the Geass was working on Aunt Petunia, otherwise she would never, never had acted that way, he was absolutely sure.

 _Fuck yes! My pink coloured years have finally arrived!_

But then, he paused. Now that he was sure he was performing some sort magic upon his aunt, would the Ministry descend upon him for unauthorized use of magic outside of school? Maybe he was safe since he wasn't using his wand? But Dobby hadn't used any either, and he still got a letter of warning at the time. There was no way to be sure for now and try as he might he never managed to 'shut down' the thing in his eyes, the source of the Geass. Seeing no other alternative, he decided to push the matter to the back of his head and deal with it later, if the moment ever arrived.

The next day, as she had promised, Aunt Petunia took his glasses to have them fixed. She returned with new ones – spectacles, just as his old ones had been and not in the least bit fashionable, but whole, mend-free and, best of all, with no cracks.

The family started the diet that same day. Everyone, Uncle Vernon included, would live from then on salads and fruits, no more. Harry carried out his plan of asking for help quickly enough and was pleased his friends were even quicker to come to his rescue.

He saw the routine of the house change as clear as dusk, as the days passed. Meals became grumpy affairs, full of grunts, pouts, and grimaces from the larger members of the family; heated discussions became common occurrences between mother and son. Vernon took to arriving later into the evening, always with the excuse of diners with clients and partners, and Dudley appeared to have made a thousand friends that summer, more often than not coming to ask his father for permission to spend the days and nights in their houses. In time, it came to be that Harry and Petunia ate most meals alone, just the two of them. He pitied her; in truth, she was the only one keeping to her son's diet.

That somehow drew them closer. To not leave her alone the whole day, he started to spend time together with his aunt here and there and take up shores to help her around the house. He didn't have to, he knew; the woman was used to being alone in her home, with her son and niece away on boardings schools and her husband at work most of the day. It was nothing to her. Yet, the new way she treated him, kind and solicitous always, became somewhat intoxicating to Harry. Every smile and warm gaze she threw at him seemed to stir his insides and spread a weird feeling in his chest. _Is this what it feels like to have a mother?_ He asked himself many times, having no way to be sure.

"Oh, and you don't believe what Mrs Hawkings said the other day to Mrs..." she was saying one night, as she and Harry sat together on the couch in the living room to watch one of her nightly soap-operas. Harry wasn't actually paying attention to the telly – he had no interest in the shows after all – he mostly listened to her talking and did his best to comment something amusing or useful from time to time. The woman was an irredeemable gossip, and the only interest she seemed to have was the life of her neighbours and television celebrities, but Harry was pleased to find out she was very agreeable and even sweet when she wasn't talking to someone she hated from the bottom of her heart.

"She didn't!" Harry faked the surprise in his reply when she finished the tale. Of course, he couldn't care less if Mrs Hawking from Number Six caught on fire, but he knew that was what she wanted to hear.

"Yes, she did, and I reckon they won't be talking to each other again for a long while, at the very least not until Christmas," she finished with a pleased look on her face. Smiling, she reclined back on the sofa, resting her head sideways to look at him. For a couple of seconds, she watched him with such warmth that Harry felt heat creep up his neck to tinge his cheeks with red.

"Wh-what?" he stammered, staring back.

Her eyes dropped lazily down his body, inspecting as they went. "Those clothes are awfully big for you, aren't they?" Harry own eyes followed hers, scanning the baggy flannel and large, faded jeans he wore. They were – as were the rest of Harry's wardrobe – old hand-me-downs his cousin had outgrown in his quest to become a miniature elephant. It was rich she was mentioning it when it was usually the woman herself who shoved the clothes into his arms whenever Dudley had no more use for them.

She ran a hand over his chest, feeling the worn out material of the shirt. "And old too. See, I was thinking – Dudley will be over at his friends tomorrow, why don't we go to the centre and pick some new clothes for you?"

Harry could scarcely believe what he had heard. He couldn't remember the last time they had bought clothes for him if such a thing had ever happened in the first place.

"Really? I mean, that's great. What time you wanna go?" he said, holding down a stupid grin.

 _I'm starting to love this power._

She smiled widely at him. "We'll go after your uncle leaves for work, then we can take the whole day and not worry about time or anything," she said.

Harry nodded, feeling almost as content as he felt when he found out he had a family in Sirius and the man wasn't actually an evil mass-murderer. He stiffed when he felt the warmth of her body against his side and the unmistakable feeling of a head coming to rest on his shoulder. _Alright, I should try to get used to this._ Together, the two watched the rest of the show.

They left the next morning in the family's rarely used second car, one Uncle Vernon had gifted Petunia years before when they celebrated their ten-year marriage anniversary. Little later after his uncle rode away to his job, they did the same, headed in the opposite direction, to the shopping centre at the other side of the town.

Only, one thing kept bothering Harry, something that left him at the same time embarrassed and uncomfortable: his aunt's choice of clothing.

Aunt Petunia wore a medium-sized light-green sundress, neither long nor overly short, but just enough as to leave her knees out to the air. Her neck was naked, unadorned of the pearls-necklace she was so fond of using whenever she left the house. Somehow, that only served to help drawn Harry's gaze to the neckline and the bared, delicate curve of her womanly shoulders, on which her freed blond locks cascaded over like a golden waterfall.

There was one thing Harry came to realize these past few days. As an orphan, scorned and unloved, even neglected by their relatives, it is easy and natural for one to come up with petty ways to get back at those found guilty of doing them wrong. For Harry, it was the caricaturing of the Dursleys and the mocking of their physical appearance inside his head. At least I don't look like them, he would often tell himself every time he had to drop his head and crawl back to his cupboard under the stairs. It was easy with Vernon and Dudley, whose gluttony had left them on the verge of obesity. In Harry's eyes, they had been indistinguishable from whales. Aunt Petunia wasn't fat though, but she was no less cruel than her husband, so it would seem almost unfair to leave her out of the name-calling party in his head. But with her, it was harder.

The woman was unmistakably pretty, with an elegant jaw and chin, cheekbones that complimented them, and a pair of pale greenish-blue eyes. Harry had been hard-pressed to find something that stood out enough to make fun of, so his childish mind had to come up with things like 'her face and neck are too long', 'her teeth are too big', or 'she is too thin' so as to not exclude her or show any kindness. Being in more amicable terms with her now, he could see the truth for what it was and recognized the bias he had upheld his whole life.

That realization led to an awkward trip and eventual awkward day for Harry, as she dragged him from shop to shop, arm linked with his. She would take him to a brand store and have him try on as many outfits as she liked until she had bought at least three of them for him, but more often than not she would be the one trying clothes for herself. Low-cut dresses, slim-fitting blouses, high-heeled shoes, skirts that sometimes left half her thighs exposed; she would put them on and ask for Harry's opinion as she spun and walked in front of him, letting him feast on the vision of her.

"What about this one?" she said, twisting her body to let herself inspect the dress. It was one of those form-fitting tube ones, that hugged a woman's every curve and engraved her body on a man's memory.

"It's beautiful, ma'am. Goes marvellously with those shoes, and the purse would complete the set to perfection if I might say. I'm sure your brother will agree," the saleswoman said next to Harry.

 _Fucking ass-kisser._

Aunt Petunia laughed heartily and prettily. _I didn't know she could laugh like that_. "Oh, he isn't my brother, silly," she said, once the air returned to her. "She's my sister's son. _Still_ ," she looked at him and raised her eyebrows, then spun around one more time for him. "What do you think, Harry?"

Harry could not answer, however, being at the moment without air in his lungs. All those years of yoga and religiously jogging every morning with the other housewives of the neighbourhood had left their mark on his aunt, and their results spoke for themselves.

Toned, shapely legs welcomed Harry's eyes, inviting him to wonder how it would be _just_ above the line of fabric. A flat stomach was glued to the dress, not an ounce of fat to be seen anywhere. And Harry dared not linger his eyes on the curve of her tight ass.

 _Harry, this your aunt you're checking out._

He cleared his throat and pushed down the blood from his face. "It's, err, good. Goes well with your skin." The dress was emerald green, the colours of Harry's own eyes. "But, Aunt Petunia, would you even have a chance to use that dress?"

Petunia made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "Oh, Vernon has enough of these social dinners with clients around the year, there will be a chance," she said, then turned to the saleswoman, "I'll take it."

The two of them walked back to the fitting room, discussing more clothes and shoes. Harry looked away, to prevent himself from staring at his aunt's nicely swaying behind. _Merlin's balls, is she doing this on purpose? Nah, it can't be, she is my aunt – my mother's sister. The Geass wouldn't go that far... right?_

The rest of the day was spent much like that, much to Harry's distress. Aunt Petunia though looked like she enjoyed every second of it and was oblivious to her nephew's state of mind, as she seemed to flaunt her legs, ass, and cleavage to him with no reservation. It finally ended when the Sun hung low in the sky, and Harry almost thanked Merlin out loud when she stated they were going back. He didn't know how much more he could go on without a visit to a restroom to... relieve his tension.

Back on Number Four Private Drive, they unloaded the many, many bags containing the attires purchased for both Harry and Petunia. She emptied his wardrobe, throwing away the old rags he used for clothing, and filling it again with the newly bought outfits. He helped her in taking her own bags to her and her husband's room, dropping them on the king-sized bed, for her to go through them later on her own.

"That's the last of them," said Harry, admiring the sizable pile. He knew Uncle Vernon was very well off, the man was a company director and all, but for his wife to spend the outrageous amount of money she had that day without nary a second thought, Harry must have certainly underestimated the number printed on the man's paycheck. "Thanks, Aunt Petunia. That was really kind of you, and meant a lot to me."

She smiled brightly at him. "You're welcome, sweetie," she said. Harry turned to leave. A hand grasped his wrist, holding his in place. He twisted around to face her again. She still smiled, only now, something had changed about it, something he couldn't quite explain, but that sent a cold shiver running up his spine. "That's it? Just a 'thanks'? Don't you think I deserve at least a reward?"

Harry gulped. "Re-Reward?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Yes, I think I've earned a little kiss... right..." she turned her face and touched her right cheek with a finger, "...here."

Harry breathed easier at that. It was a damn weird request, but not unreasonable – he had seen mothers asking their children for kisses on the cheeks all the fucking time, it wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

Hesitantly, he closed the space between them until there was less than a foot between their bodies, brought his face up to hers and lightly touched her cheek with his lips. Her skin was warm and soft and smelled of the floral perfume she liked. A heartbeat passed, and he withdrew, relieved when she let go of his arm to let him step away.

She beamed at him.

"That wasn't so hard now was it," she said, all sweet admonition. Then she turned briskly, giving him her back and walking off to her bags. "Off with you, I need to sort these out, Vernon won't like it in the least if he were to find them scattered around all over the place."

Harry had no idea how his aunt explained to her husband and son the need of buying him clothes, but they said nothing the next day when he appeared before them, wearing a shirt and jeans that actually fit him for once. They sulked over it, and he caught Dudley giving him the evil-eye more than once, but otherwise, Harry went unperturbed. Over the next couple of weeks, as July approached its end and his birthday grew closer, and he saw no improvement in Vernon's and Dudley's opinion of him, another realization dawned on Harry:

The Geass didn't work on them.

Many experiments he tried for a way to get its effects to trigger, from starting conversations to random acts of kindness towards them, and even going out of his way to spend some time with them in whatever activity. But nothing worked. His intrinsic knowledge of his power told him it acted on an area around his body, and that he should not need to do anything to make it work, but told him nothing more. He didn't know how wide that area was, how strong the 'love' that was supposed to grow would be, or if it grew all at once or over time. One thing he was certain for sure though: Vernon and Dudley loved him no more than they did thirteen years before, when Harry was left at the Durley's doorstep.

The results he was not getting with them however, he was having in leaps and bounds with Aunt Petunia. From the day of the shopping trip onwards, his aunt only grew more attached and affectionate to him. Morning kisses on his cheeks became a common occurrence (as long as Vernon wasn't around), wandering hands during every opportunity she found to touch him, the way they watched the telly together, practically on each other's arms now. And she was happier than Harry had ever seen her, practically glowing as she went about her daily life. Not even her son's failing in keeping to his diet seemed to shake her when they found out he had accomplished to gain weight during the course of the summer. She had sulked about for a little bit until the time came for them to watch their shows, and she could drop her head on his shoulder. That made her happy again.

 _This is not weird. This is not weird. This is not weird. This is not weird. This is not weird._

 _This is weird as_ hell _._

But Harry was not without his share of blame either. Despite his brain telling they were starting to go too far in their new, supposedly family-like relationship, he could not bring himself to push her away, not when he was enjoying her attention so much. Yes, he liked it, he came to understand; he revelled in being so close to her, in feeling so _accepted_. But it went beyond that too, if the tightness in his pants, whenever he had his arms around her as they sat together on the couch, was any indication. It was wrong and should be repulsive for any sane mind. And so Harry had vowed to himself to not take it further and just be content with what he already got from her.

But then his birthday arrived.

The day started just as it had the two years prior, after making his friends: waking up to various packages of gifts and, best of all, birthday cakes. Four immense ones this year, thanks to Hermione, Mrs Weasley, Hagrid, and Sirius, all who had committed themselves to his survival this summer and had been sending regular supplies of delicious food – from home-made cookies and truffles (Mrs Weasley) to lavish and expensive bars of chocolate from around the world (Sirius.) He left the presents and cakes for later though and hurried to get himself ready and go down for breakfast.

As usual, the kitchen was empty save for Aunt Petunia working on the fruits and vegetables that would compose the meal that morning. If Harry was to be honest with himself he did feel a little pang of disappointment at her regular and boring choice of attire; just a plain skirt that went way past her knees and a plain buttoned blouse, same as she did every day. If truth be told he had been kind of hoping she might wear something a little bit more revealing that day, for him. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he entered the kitchen and stood at his place beside her, to help with the food.

She noticed him and turned her head, flashing a big smile. "Good morning, sweetie," she said, then closed in to give a long kiss on his cheek. "And happy birthday."

Harry smiled too. "Thanks, Aunt Petunia."

"Sorry I can't make you a cake, we have to follow the diet, remember? Dudley would be really upset if there was a cake in the house and he couldn't have a piece. But," she said, dropping her voice at the last word. She looked at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and brought her hand to the collar of his shirt, as to fix some imaginary wrinkle. "That doesn't mean I don't have something for you."

"What is it?" he asked, curious and more excited than he cared to admit.

But then they heard the heavy footsteps of Dudley coming down the stairs, meaning they wouldn't be alone much longer. " _Later_ ," she whispered and pecked him again on the cheek.

They ate, the three of them, with Aunt Petunia pleading with her son to take more of the grapefruit he so hated. Uncle Vernon was once again absent from the house. The man had taken to longer and longer periods of time away from his home, participating in working trips to neighbouring towns for the company as often as he could, even during the weekends. Harry would have thought him to have taken a lover, if he did not know the man so well; the only mistress Uncle Vernon had was the sort to be served on his plate, seasoned and peppered. That was obviously the reason for the absence. Oddly, Petunia did not seem to mind.

The meal ended after Dudley announced he would be spending the day and the night at a friend's, to which his mother gave her consent, thinking that had been asked. Aunt Petunia did not reveal the secret gift she had for Harry after her son was gone, and soon she left the house too, saying she would return later that day. Harry could not begin to imagine what she was preparing for him and guessed an elaborate meal or extravagant cake would be the most likely possibility, now that Dudley was out of the house.

The day went by slowly. Other times he would have cheered for an opportunity to be alone, the Dursleys nowhere near to pester or bully him onto to chores, but now it didn't feel quite as... fun as it did before. He had expected it to be different that year, with the power of the Geass on his side. Despite his own resolution earlier, he had expected Aunt Petunia to be all over him. But instead, he got the emptiness of the house. _You are being a child, he told himself more than once, his mind's voice soundly oddly like Hermione, isn't the fact she left evidence enough she's preparing something for you?_ Still, he couldn't help himself as he slouched through the day, without really doing anything. He fell asleep on the couch late in the afternoon.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was that night had begun to fall, the light of dusk coming through the windows like a soft caress; the second thing he noticed was a note, laying weightless on the top of his chest. He sat up on the sofa, straightening his glasses to read it.

 _I left something for you in your room. Put it on and meet me downstairs at ten._

 _Love,_

 _Petunia_

Thrusting the note into his pocket, he hurried up to his room with bated anticipation, taking two steps at a time, glancing quickly at her bedroom, to see the light on inside. In his room, laying over his bed, encased in a plastic, see-thought garment bag, was a suit. Complete with a jet-black coat, trousers, white shirt, and emerald green tie, it looked elegant and expensive. Wondering why he would need a suit for whatever Aunt Petunia was planning he went through the motions of getting himself ready. After the shower and taming his hair as best he could, he tried on the new suit. He was impressed at how well it fit and how nice it looked on him. _I guess Aunt Petunia was paying more attention than I thought while I was trying clothes for her._ He couldn't get the tie right if the future of the wizarding world depended on it, so he left it askew and headed down to meet his aunt.

Alas, she was not there when he arrived, supposedly still getting herself ready. As he paced anxiously around the living room, waiting for her to come down, his gaze fell on the many photographs atop the furniture. Photos of Dudley as he grew up, of the family on various occasions, holidays, and birthdays; the life they've lived during the fifteen years the Dursleys spend together. Eventually, his eyes found one of the oldest of them, the photo of the day Vernon and Petunia had married each other. He had seen the picture many times, of course, but only now did he stop to truly see it.

The groom looked some good ten stones lighter, which almost made Harry laugh, wondering if the man suspected what the future had in store for him in terms of weight; his uncle appeared so proud though that Harry thought maybe he wouldn't actually mind even if he knew. Looking at his aunt, he asked himself how he had ever thought her ugly. In the photo, wearing the white, ornate wedding dress, blonde hair done in an elaborate bun, and flashing a smile the size of her face, she was _beautiful_.

She looked so happy too, so hopeful, it reminded Harry of another set of photos, the ones he had of his own parents from the album Hagrid had gifted him at the end of his first year. Aunt Petunia looked just as happy with her husband as Lily had looked in the arms of James Potter, holding their newborn son. And now that he made the comparison, he could indeed see a bit of her sister on Petunia's face – the same nose, chin, and something of the cheeks. Lily had been prettier, that's true, everyone who had seen the two would attest. But even then, Harry caught himself thinking if it were up to destiny he was a man who would end up marrying Petunia Evans, he wouldn't count himself that unfortunate after all.

"You look serious, did I make you wait too much?" A voice spoke from behind, breaking him free from his reverie. He had been so engrossed in his own musings he had failed to hear her steps coming down the stairs. He turned around to face her, and his breath caught in his throat.

Leaning against the doorway, Aunt Petunia stood before him wearing the dress they bought together that day, the tube one that was the colour of his eyes and pretty much left nothing to the imagination of the woman's _curves_. He had seldom seen his aunt sporting make up that was not a very demure light pink lipstick, but now full red lips stared back at him, a target on her face asking for his attention and practically inviting his own lips closer; black eyeliner surrounded her eyes, bringing out the beautiful half-green half-blue color of her orbs. Who is this woman?

She must have noticed his eyes all over her body and the thoughts going through his head because she smiled with satisfaction at him and walked over, closing the distance between them, hips swaying with every step. "You look handsome," she complimented him, hand going to his neck when she was close enough. "But the tie's out of place."

"Sorry, Aunt Petunia," he said, throat dry. "Y-You look beautiful."

"Thanks, sweetie," she replied, fixing his tie. When she was done, she took him by the hand and pulled him towards the door. "C'mom, we might arrive late if we stay longer."

"Where are we going?" he asked, feeling like a child.

"A restaurant in London," she replied, flashing another smile at him as they entered her car. "I figured we could have a good meal for your birthday, to make up for all those vegetables we've been eating all month."

"That sounds good," said Harry airily.

Hours later had Harry and Petunia walking through the front door, way past midnight. 'Good' did not begin to describe the experience he just had, he was not sure 'fantastic' could either. The restaurant had been the classiest place Harry had ever set foot in his life – a high-class establishment overlooking the river, it was as exuberant as it was expensive. They ate of the extravagant, but delicious food heartily ("You can order whatever you want") and shared a bottle of very fine wine, the first he had ever tasted. It was a great time for Harry, especially when Petunia asked to know more about him and how he was doing at his school. Though very unlike herself to show any interest in his world, he guessed she now cared enough about him to overcome her prejudice that one time, if just to make him happy.

They stopped at the edge of the stairs, as Harry pulled softly at her hand. He looked at their intertwined fingers and, feeling emboldened by the wine in his system, he spoke. "Thanks, Aunt Petunia. Today was awesome, really, best birthday of my life. And I – I want to thank you for this summer, it has been really great. So, err, thank you."

She looked at him, a grin coming to her lips. "There's no need to thank me," she said. "I'm just glad you liked it. Happy birthday."

He nodded, smiling too, and made to go up the stairs, but stopped when he felt she hadn't let go of his hand.

"Although, I can think of a few ways you could... reward me," she spoke, voice a low purr, eyes glued to his lips.

"Y-Yeah?" Harry breathed. Some part of him knew what this night had been leading to. Some part of him wanted it.

"Oh yes..." she stepped closer, "...quite a few, in fact..." body coming in contact with his "...and I've been such a good girl..." soft breasts pressing up against him, lips apart by a mere inch, wine-scented breaths mingling with each other's "...surely I can have at least one, small..."

Their lips met, and for a second, he didn't know what to do, until she started to slide hers on his own. He kissed her back then, doing the same, as a flush crept up his body. He pressed the tip of his tongue over her lower lip, and he was delighted when she parted them for him and allowed entrance into her mouth.

The throaty moan she let out when their wet organs met each other was enough to redirect the blood from his head to the lower parts of his body, compelling his hardening cock to finish its ascension to full mast. Instinctively, he brought his right hand around to rest on the curve of her lower back, and pushed her against him, enjoying the delightful feeling of her breasts crashing against his chest and her pelvis on his own. He knew she could feel it, the hardness of his member over her own sex, but he didn't care, she had made him like this. He wanted her to feel.

They were as close as two fully clothed humans could be, there, by the steps of the stairs, her right arm having found its way around his neck, pushing their heads together, whilst their tongues battled one another in a wet and erotic dance, time inside one mouth time inside another. When she began to rub herself along the length of his cock through the fabric of the trousers, his body assumed direct control of his functions and brought his hand down, to cup one the sides of her gorgeous butt. Then he squeezed it hard, seizing the opportunity to push them ever closer together. He was rewarded when she broke the kiss to moan against his lips, eyes closed in bliss.

"A-Aunt Petunia, I..." he began but never finished. She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, and with eyes clouded by lust, she stepped away. Harry was confused for a moment but understood as she began to ascend the stairs, pulling him along with her. He admired the sway of her hips above him as they went and, this time, made no attempt to look away.

As soon they were inside his bedroom, she pushed him against the closed door and jumped on him, pinning him to the wood behind his back. She kissed him, deep and hard, tongue doing its best to reach as farther in his mouth as possible. Her hands weren't idle either; they began a journey of their own down his upper body, caressing, squeezing, and pitching where they would, feeling him up to their heart's content. Her lips left him, only to move along the contour of his face, leaving small kisses as they went and a trail of fire where they had been. She stopped by his neck, nuzzling the skin and breathing deeply.

"Touch me," he heard her husky whisper next to his ear, as she ran her tongue on the flesh below.

Harry panted, fighting for air in the ever-increasing temperature around them. He was in another world, where reality composed of the ten tendrils going up and down his torso, the delicious wet burning on his neck, and the sweet smell of her perfume inside his nostrils. But Harry wasn't one to neglect a request, especially one he had been secretly yearning for. He placed his hands on the curves of her thin waist, feeling the somewhat hard muscle beneath, the result of years of weird positions during yoga classes. He massaged them lightly, trying to engrave the sensation in his memory, then travelled up, to stop just below the valleys of her breasts. He hesitant for just a moment, before keeping on, cupping the flesh of her mounds and filling his hands with them. Aunt Petunia exhaled a particularly strong breath, then resumed her assault on his collarbone.

Harry played with her tits, squeezing again and again, mindful of not doing it too hard lest he actually hurt her, and rubbing his thumbs back and forth over the small hard points under the fabric, which he imagined were her nipples.

She shuddered prettily whenever he did so, and her fingers would pinch him just so to pay him back. By now she had most of the buttons of his shirt undone, and her hands ran wildly over the naked flesh beneath.

Harry left her breasts alone for the moment and sent his left hand down to massage her clothed bum again, this time paying attention to both sides, while his right cupped her chin, bringing her face back up for another searing kiss. He felt her push his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, and start their way to the lower parts of his body, pulling the shirt off his trousers and undoing the last of the buttons along the way. He stiffed when he felt her fingers on his belt.

That was it. The moment of truth. He knew if he let her do away with the accessory and shove his pants down, there would be no going back. As of the could still push her off, force her away from him and try to pass the whole episode as drunk misgivings – though both were far from being drunk -, something to never happen again, and they would return to their affectionate, although family-like relationship. He knew that was the right thing to do. He knew. Yet, when the belt came loose, the trousers with it, revealing his blue-coloured boxers to the world, his hand was still on her butt and his lips glued to hers, tongue swirling inside her mouth.

The alien feeling of another person's hand closing around his boxer-clad hardness broke him out of whatever notions of thought his mind was trying to muster. Her hand was softer than his own, he noticed, more delicate, fingers thinner and longer. When it began to pump up and down his length, he couldn't stop himself from moaning in their kiss.

She smiled against his mouth and retread her lips an inch from his face. "Oh, my," she purred. "When did you become such a big boy, Harry?"

Even if Harry had an answer for that, he could not seem to find his voice among his hard breathing. The stimulation was too strong, the sensation too powerful, and the pleasure too great. He felt as if he could spend himself any moment inside his underwear. As if sensing this she let go of his cock, and slowly raised her hands up his abdomen, tracing the lightly defined muscles with the point of her fingers. "Such beautiful skin, such... youth..." she said, as they both watched her sensual ministrations over his body. She continued her ascend, giving the same attention to his pectorals muscles and his collarbone (something that appeared to be a favorite of hers), until her hands reached his head, when she proceeded to cup the sides of his face again, but just for a light peck this time, then moved her lips down, "...tell your aunt, Harry..." then to his neck, "...are you..." his chest, "...still a..." his nipple, then down again, and Harry noticed the woman was lowering herself, slowly getting on her knees, making her way to his nether region, "...virgin?" she finished as her face came to a level with his throbbing cock, still sadly stuck within the confines of the boxers.

Harry nodded weakly, and she smiled brightly at him as if the answer pleased her. "Don't worry, sweetie. That won't be for much longer," she said, eyes focused on the rod underneath his underwear. She clasped his pelvis, and for a moment Harry thought she would yank the piece of cloth down, but instead, she leaned forth, burring her face in his genitals. She rubbed from right to left, _nuzzling_ his iron hard cock and balls, breathing in the scent of his manhood. The feeling of her small nose, mouth and chin down _there_ almost made him cum on the spot, but before he could she retreated from the task.

Aunt Petunia smirked lasciviously at his breathless reaction, looking into his half-lid eyes with bare desire. She regarded his clothed erection one last time before tugging his underpants down and freeing his cock to the cold night chill and the pleasure of the world.

Being naked in front of someone else was an odd feeling if Harry had to describe it. In his memory, there was not an occasion when he had bathed with another person – the Hogwarts locker room had separate shower-booths for the players – and not even with an adult relative as young children usually do. It was not unpleasant though, for the tongue running over his aunt's lips and the glint of hunger in her eyes told him she very much approved of the sight of the hard, pre-cum-dripping cock. She took him in both hands, rubbing up and down his length, squeezing the skin between her digits.

"Hmm, I so glad you're fat where it counts," she said, pumping his meat with increasing speed. "Don't worry about anything, no need to hold it in. Just cum now, just cum for auntie."

But Harry endured – through the burning-hot warmth of her hands and the serpentine sliding of her fingers – he endured, but only until her vigorous masturbation of his prick to came a halt, and she brought her tongue to the top of his cockhead, licking the streaming pre-cum away. And that wet, rough feeling was too much for Harry. He exploded in a moment, cumming load after load of semen out of his balls in a seemingly endless fashion. He saw stars, his knees grew weak, and Harry simply melted as the orgasm chased away all other sensations out of his system and left only pleasure.

When finally, his faculties saw fit to return and Harry was once again among the mortals did he have the presence of mind to look down and see where he might have spent his seed. He was greeted with the obscene sight, and feeling, of Aunt Petunia with lips around the cap of his cock, its head just inside the cavity of her mouth. She drew back, letting him go, and with a gulping motion she pushed his juice down to her stomach. _She swallowed_. It was too erotic; his dick decided it might actually be a better decision to stay up.

She got to her feet and immediately pressed her body against him, involving her arms around his neck, pulling him to a wet French kiss. Uncaring of the salty flavour of himself, he kissed her back with gusto and dropped his hands to the small of her back, firmly grasping at her hips. They made out until both were flushed red and begging for breath.

"Aunt Petunia, that was – that was amazing," Harry said between gulps of air.

"Thank you, sweetie, you taste delicious," she replied to him, lips brushing against his own, their foreheads touching. She kissed him again, quickly this time, and ventured her face forth, to whispers next to his ear. "But there's more from where that came from, and it's all yours tonight. I am yours tonight, every _nook_ and _crank_ ," and then she bit him softly, adding to the sheer eroticism of the statement.

Harry was beside himself at that point. Who was the woman in the room with him now? Was she the same Petunia who gossiped about the daily boring life of the neighbourhood, hating any _missteps_ of the conduct she considered _normal_? Who seemed to abhor the libertine lifestyle of celebrities, make a point to single it out as abnormal behaviour, and, therefore, reprehensible? Petunia the prude, who looked like she herself hasn't done the deed with her husband in more years than he could count on his hands, had just swallowed a load of his cum and was saying he could take his merry pleasure of her body in any way he saw fit? Not even to mention she was his aunt, of his own blood.

 _Is this the power of the Geass or this is how she really is?_

His questions would have to wait, because next, she walked away towards the bed, pulling on his hand and throwing that devious little smile she had been sporting the whole night. She stopped a couple feet away from her destination, back turned to him, and shifted her long blond hair to the front of her body, baring her neck and deliciously alluring shoulders.

"Will you help me out of this?" she asked, and only then Harry noticed the fabric-covered zipper streaming down in the middle of the dress.

He walked to her then, strangely aware of his cock slapping on his belly with each step. She raised her arms, stretching them up far above her head, making herself a long vertical silhouette. An idea struck Harry just as his fingers touched the pin. He brought his face closer to her back, and as the zipper travelled down, he planted a kiss on each new inch of naked flesh, and she rewarded him with a series of quick, cute shudders. She reached the end just as the crack of her arse started; now on his knees, it was just a matter of pulling the dress down. He did so, grasping at the fabric and the powerful muscles of her legs bellow. Soon the green of the dress gave away to the pale, milk-white flesh of her butt – the one part of her body he had most desired to behold since his awakening to the carnal desire of his aunt.

As the piece of clothing lay pooling at her feet, Harry could not divert his gaze from the sight of her ass before him. It was everything he had imagined; round and soft and beautiful, it was not as big as some he could name (coughHermionecoughMrsWeasleycough), but so incredibly perky and looked so damn tight its allure was not in any way diminished. Harry clutched, squeezing and running his fingers along the flesh, overcome by arousal and sheer desire. His heart skipped a beat, and his cock twitched each time his ministrations gave him a flash of the pink rosebud hidden away between her globes. He was almost salivating.

Harry heard a _giggle_ above him. "You really do love my ass, don't you?" his aunt said, staring down at him. "I've caught you staring at it so many times I thought you might just hold me down one day and fuck it until I couldn't sit."

The use of the dirt words sent another shot through his dick, and Harry held down a grunt. He decided two could play the game.

"Would you like that? Do you want me to pin you down and fuck your ass hard and fast, Aunt Petunia?" He spoke, faking as much innocence as he could. Merlin, the raw immorality of what he has just said was _intoxicating_.

Her eyes clouded, and the flesh shivered under his hands. "Maybe," she breathed out. But before he could raise and make good on his words she turned around, presenting him with another long-awaited sight.

One thing that would never be said about Petunia Dursley was that she didn't know how to take care of her things. Her house, albeit without a drop of individuality and taste, was spotless, not an object out of place. Her everyday clothes were boring and plain, but always in pristine condition. Her lawn, though in no small thanks to Harry himself, was lush green and vivid. Everything she owned was taken care of with otherworldly zeal.

It was no different with her body.

She was slim, her figure curvy around the middle, where a small waist gave way to wider hips. Her breasts, two mounts of snow-white flesh, were just big enough so that he could fill each of his hands, but they were perky and did not look to be sagging anytime soon; her small, pink nipples were so hard he wondered if perhaps they were not causing her any pain. And her pussy – her clean-shaven pussy, the first pussy ever bared to him – with its fat, pink-red outer-lips slightly parted, was absolutely soaked. The glistering, viscous liquid streamed down from her slit, running down to almost the middle of her tights.

"You're beautiful," he breathed and without waiting for an answer he leaned forward, to slid his tongue from the tip of the stream to the junction of her leg and the pelvis.

Her taste was not as strong as he might have thought, and the musky scent of her sex only aroused him further. He would have gone farther if her legs hadn't started shaking under his strong grip. He looked up at her, to see her face completely red, with half-lid eyes and mouth slightly open.

"I think I just came a little," she said a second later, after recomposing herself enough to form words. Harry said nothing but decided to return to the task and rectify that 'little'. She did not let him though, stopping his head with a hand on his scalp. "Another time, sweetie. Tonight is about you. Besides I only want to cum again with your cock inside me."

Harry gulped and nodded. He raised to his feet, taking her in his arms and kissing her again, enjoying the feeling of his rod against the warm flesh of her crotch. It lasted long enough so they could get rid of the rest of the clothing; he throwing away his shirt and, more awkwardly, his socks, and she stepping out of her high-heels.

They walked to the bed truly now, and she pushed him with strength. He landed on his back, dick slapping against his stomach. She climbed after him, crawling like a cat on all fours, smiling mischievously, until she was completely above him, legs and arms on each side of his body.

"Now, Harry," she said, from inside the curtain of golden hair framing her face, as she grasped his dick with her hand. "Auntie is going to put your cock inside her, and we are going to have sex, and you will fuck her until you cum inside her and she screams and passes out from pleasure, okay? Is that alright? Can you do that for Auntie?"

"Yeah, I can do that," replied Harry, his shame long have departed him.

"That's my Harry," she said grinning, equally shameless.

She straightened her back so she was looming above him, crouched over folded legs. His cock, enclosed between her fingers, was a stake – long and hard and erect, it waited just below her open cunt, as it dripped lubrication over his engorged head. The feeling of her fluids falling over his meat, and knowing it was coming from her pussy, coming for _him_ , because she desired _him_ and wanted to get her it nice and ready for _him_ , was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

And then she lowered herself.

Slowly, at first, just the head broke through the entrance of the cave of her sex, bathing in her more than abundant juices. Harry groaned and she soldiered on, taking more and more of his length into her welcoming cunt. It was slippery inside her, but her walls pushed him back as much as he stretched them, adding some difficulty to the journey and even more pleasure for him. And it was hot too. Her pussy seemed to be on fire with all the heat it was passing to his cock. Looking up, Harry saw Aunt Petunia had her eyes closed, enjoying each second his hard meat spent travelling up her channel. At long last he was fully sheathed in her, all the length of his mast evolved by the meaty and squishy feeling of her walls, his tip pressing against some kind of hard block deep inside.

Aunt Petunia groaned softly. "God, you're in my womb," she breathed out. Sitting on top of him now, she tried to adjust her position, slightly shifting her hips right and left until coming back to the initial position. "It's like you're knocking on it."

"Sorry, I'll try to-"

"No, no, no," she interrupted him, eyes finally opening back again. "It's just – it's... so good! And you're so fat too! It's stretching me all over." She resumed her shifting from before, moaning all the while, and soon had her hips gyrating on his dick with increasing speed, trying to paint a picture on the entrance of her womb with its large tip. She held her hair up as she ground on him, rubbing her pussy-lips on the base of his cock and showing him the erotic sight of her armpits. Feeling something stir within him and demand more pleasure he grasped her hips and forced them to stay put. She opened her eyes, which had been closed again, and looked down at him. "Oh, sorry, sweetie," Aunt Petunia said. "It was just too good. I'll milk you nice and hard now, okay?"

She raised herself from his cock until only the head remained inside her wet cave, and with a sudden and fast motion, slammed down again. This time both moaned loudly. She repeated the action, though not as sharply as the first time, and soon they settled in a pace where she bounced up and down on his cock in a fast tempo, effectively fucking herself.

Harry watched her through the haze of pleasure.

She was beautiful like that, Harry decided, with lips slightly parted emitting soft moans ("oh, oh, oh,"), just the shadow of lipstick remaining; misty half-lidded eyes, and marred eyeliner on the very top of her cheeks. She was never prettier as she was then, with his cock deep in her cunt. Her body was beautiful too; lean and soft, with shapely legs, flat belly, and a delicious ass he couldn't quite see right now. He could just drink in the sight.

Her tits especially drew his attention at the moment; the two not-quite-small-not-quite-big mounds jiggled in frenzy with her quick, vertical motions of love-making, acting out a hypnotic dance that would not let his eyes go. The pink nipples, in their hardness, were calling to him, inviting to come over and have a sample, on the house, as much as you could take. And so, he did.

"Ooooohhhh," Petunia moaned when he took a tit in his mouth. "Oh, Harry, yes, suck it, suck my tits, suck them. Do them both, suck them both, suck on auntie's breasts, oohhhh yeeess, like that yes," Harry complied with her request, alternating from right to left tit, licking and sucking and almost munching at the nipples, revelling at the opportunity he never had when he was a baby. Petunia for her part had unfolded her legs and now had them locked behind Harry's back, using the boy's body as support to increase the speed in which she bounced on his fat cock. One arm was hugging across his shoulder, while the other had its hand grasping strongly at his dark locks, pushing his face against her bosom, urging him on his quest to bite her tits off. "Harry, Harry, Harry," she chanted his name among the storm of lust. "I'm close – I think I'm close, I need to cum now sweetie, I'm going to cum – cum with me, cum inside your aunt now, cum, cum, cuuuuUUUMMMM."

Harry did, finally allowing the insane stimulation to take over his being and set free the bursting volcano that had been his loins for a good set of minutes. He sprayed his semen long into her quivering pussy, still pumping his hips up he went, as her whole body shook uncontrollably in his arms. She clutched at him, refusing to let go even after long the last drop of his spunk was safely stored away in her womb, lost in post-orgasmic high, while Harry nuzzled her breasts, equally content. Finally, her strength gave away, and both fell down on the bed – Harry on his back, and Petunia upon him, both enjoying the exhaustion resulted of their love-making.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, basking in the after-glow, panting softly into each other, until Aunt Petunia lift her head from his hair. "I've never cum that hard," she said with a shy smile, blushing prettily. She kissed him again, tenderly this time, and Harry got the impression she might be trying to convey her feelings that way. Nevertheless, he responded accordingly, kissing her back with as much affection as he could.

"I'm so full, it feels like it's gonna burst," she complained when they broke off the kiss, and regarded him with an impish gleam in her eyes and a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You've filled your aunt's womb with too much semen, Harry; aren't you afraid you'll get her pregnant?" Harry opened and closed his mouth, unable to form words, horror-struck at the notion. She laughed at his helpless expression. "Don't worry about that, sweetie, I'll take care of it later. Actually, I just had the most fantastic idea."

She rose back to a sitting position, bending her head so she could look at the point their genitals met, prompting him to watch as well. His soft cock finally slid out of her as she raised her hips, coming to lay flat on his stomach. Her cunt looked abused; as red as a tomato, it was as if someone had just spanked it and not kindly. _I guess we were doing it harder than I thought_. There was some pain in his pelvis too, he noticed, but it was an almost pleasurable kind of pain, that reminded he had just had really good experience. He was snatched away from his thoughts as Aunt Petunia brought her hand down to the entrance of her pussy and plunged two digits inside, up to their knuckles. She seemed to move them inside, parting and shifting them, stretching her fat cunt-lips and widening her cave in the process. At last, she retreaded them, taking them out coated in a misty and cloudy liquid Harry could only imagine was a mix of their respective ejaculates. She then raised her hand to her mouth and took each finger inside, licking them clean until only her saliva remained covering the digits.

But that was not the show she had prepared for him, as he came to realize when something that felt like lava began to land atop his cock. He looked down again, to see his semen slowly dripping out of her lady-cave, falling drop by drop at first, then faster until it became a small stream of viscous, yellowish, burning-hot liquid matter. Aunt Petunia swung above him, back and forth, spreading his cum over his penis and sack in a homogeneous manner, until it covered all of his junk like a second layer. She unmounted him then, crawling back to the level of his pelvis, and lowered her head to hoover between his legs. She grinned and locked eyes with him, then proceeded to kiss her way up the inside of his tights to his genitals, where she took a long and open-mouthed lick from the base of his cock, beneath his balls, to the tip of his shaft, then back again, repeating the process until he was clean, soaked in saliva and throbbing hard. She took him fully in her mouth then and used her head as a piston to suck up and down the range of his boy-meat, slurping noisily and gagging whenever he hit her throat.

It was too much for the recent ex-virgin Harry, who came again inside her oral cavity. He gave no warning and just grasped her head with both hands, burying his fingers in her golden locks, and her face in the curls of his pubic hair, driving his cock past her throat and into her neck, shooting his load directly into her stomach.

Finally spent, Harry threw his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, enjoying once more the after-glow. A wet slurp and he felt his dick free from the warm and wet blanket. A soft body covered his own, hugging him at the chest, and a face nuzzled his neck, covering it in soft kisses before laying still. He heard a content sight before falling asleep.

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Harry woke up to a sight he had never even imagined before in his life: An Aunt Petunia sprawled above his body, the two of them naked, her head resting on his chest, tangled blond hair covering them both, and his arm possessively around her waist. For a moment he did not know what to think, much less what to do, then the memory of the night past came back to him.

He had sex with his aunt, his mother's sister and the woman who did her best not to raise him. Not only sex; he had fucked her, pumped so much cum down her throat and up her cunt he would be surprised if she did not spend the rest of the day smelling like semen. And now here she was, sleeping in his arms like a lover.

There was a stir bellow, and he saw her waking up as well, dizzily rubbing her face on his chest until she was fully awake. She looked up, staring into his eyes for a couple of seconds, and seemed to gather her thoughts for a moment, then smiled and reached up to capture his lips in a kiss.

"Good morning," Aunt Petunia said, running a lazy hand down his torso to his crotch, to grasp at his erection, which had been poking at her leg. "And what do have here?" she teased, tugging on his cock, masturbating him gently. "Isn't a bit early to be up, Harry?" he chuckled at the bad pun and shrugged. She giggled and gave a last hard squeeze before letting go, using her arms to rise from the bed. "Sorry, sweetie, I really need a shower right now. See you down for breakfast, okay?" she blew him a kiss and turned to leave the bedroom, still clad in her birthday suit. Harry watched her butt as she went, enjoying the sweet view of her swaying hips.

Naked in bed, Harry was finally left alone with his thoughts.

He sighed.

That was not what he was going for when he accepted the Geass. He had taken the power in an impulse, curious and more than a little amazed by what it promised to do, but never in a million years would he have imagined the effect would be so strong as to throw his aunt, who had hated Harry with all the fibers in her body, into the literal incestuous bed with him. And he... he had no excuse. He knew the Geass did not affect its owner, so everything he had done he did of his own volition, out of his own lust.

Still, he had liked it, had enjoyed her body and affection – they both did, he knew; so, it couldn't be bad, right?

From that day onwards, Harry and Petunia became something like lovers. They would make out in most places of the house, kissing and fondling each other whenever the other inhabitants were out of sight. The Diet stayed the rule of the house, hard as iron and stronger than ever, which led to longer and longer periods of time away from the place for Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Aunt Petunia got used to waking most mornings on Harry's bed after a night of passionate sex with her nephew, all tangled up in his arms and cum leaking out of her pussy. They grew bolder too, often times having sex on the couch during the nightly soap-operas or at least a blowjob if Dudley was in the house.

He took her ass for the first time in the kitchen, in a morning after a night they hadn't slept together and his cum churned inside his balls after almost twelve hours without being released into a wet channel. She had been wearing a particularly high on her waist skirt, that accentuated the curves of her hips. No longer Vernon was out for work, Harry seized her by the arms and, remembering her own words the night of his birthday, pushed her down the dinner table, lifted her skirt and yanked down her white frilly panties. His aunt had already been wet by the time the underwear hit her ankles, and Harry stuck three fingers up her moist cunt as she moaned loudly, swirling around to gather as much as he could of her woman-juice, which he used to lubricate his shaft, spreading the oily fluid around it. He tapped the tip a few times against the pink rosebud, watching it open and close in anticipation. "Sorry, Aunt Petunia, I can't resist anymore," he had said, arching over to hold her by the shoulders, plunging into her butt in a sudden and fast movement until he fit completely inside and his sack slapped against her labia. She had trashed under his weight, screaming in half-pleasure half-pain each time he drew back and drove back again to the base. She had come first though, drenching his balls in her ejaculate, minutes before he did too inside her arse. Later, when both had recovered, they made love properly as well on top of the table.

After that, buttstuff became a regular in their repertoire of sexual activities, which only became more depraved as time went on.

And so, Harry's dream-summer continued happily. Marked by Petunia's caresses and generous forms of showing her love, it was one of the best times of his life so far. Until the letter from Mrs Weasley arrived, inviting him to watch the final of the Quidditch World Cup together with her family, announcing the early end of his time with the Dursleys that year. It was the first occasion when he had wanted to refuse them and stay home until September first, but he accepted nonetheless and did his best to convince Uncle Vernon to let him go.

The night before the day the Weasleys had agreed to pick him up, Aunt Petunia sneaked into his room after Vernon had fallen asleep, to make love to him one last time before he was gone.

Harry fucked her from above, in a position where she could lay on her back and just enjoy the age-old motion of mating, eagle spread for his better access and arms pulling his body against hers, as Harry delighted in her tits and nipples.

"Harry," she called among moans, just low enough so as to not wake the sleeping occupants of the other rooms. Harry rose, letting the reddened meat slip out of his mouth. "Stay, oh, stay with me," she whispered, as he pumped her body, making her shake back and forth. "Don't go back to, oh, that school. Stay here, oh, oh, with me – I'm yours, you can have me anytime you want. Or we can – oh God – we can leave and live by ourselves somewhere else, just the two of us, just – just don't go," she took his head in her hands, cupping his face and staring deeply into his emerald-green eyes with her pale ones. Something not quite sane glistened inside them. "I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you." Harry silenced her with a deep and passionate kiss and increased the rhythm of his thrusts. His tongue still inside her mouth as he felt the shaky tell-tale of her orgasm. As her legs clutched at his sides, he took his cue to ejaculate as well, hoping to finish that session.

He said nothing in response to her request. Eventually, she dressed up and went back to her own bedroom, where her husband slept soundly.

And he probably was one of the few who did that night though, for long after Aunt Petunia was gone Harry stayed up, gazing into the ceiling and wondering what her words could mean for him and, more importantly, his Geass, the Heart of Eros.

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"Mr Weasley, it's Harry... the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there," Harry said, holding his laughter lest he upset the already turning purple Uncle Vernon.

"Damn!" said Mr Weasley's annoyed voice. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"

"They've got an electric fire," Harry explained.

"Really?" said Mr Weasley's voice excitedly. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that... Let's think... ouch, Rony!"

Rony's voice now joined the others'. "What are we doing here? What did you idiots do this time?"

"Oh, sorry, Rony," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. "We just thought it would be totally funny to prank ourselves into a tight dark space."

"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, whose voice sounded muffled, as though he was squashed against the wall.

"Kids..." said Mr Weasley vaguely. "I'm trying to think what to do...Yes...only way... Stand back, Harry."

Harry retreated to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward.

"Wait a moment!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to —"

BANG.

The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr Weasley, Fred, George, and Rony in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backwards over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to the last freckle.

The girl of the group, a busty teenager almost as tall as Harry, was the first to come to her feet, torn jeans and sleeveless jacket covered in ashes. She brushed off the dust harshly, angry it got on her outfit in the first place, then looked around to gather her surrounds before finally fixing her eyes on Harry himself.

"Hey, Harry, terrific place you got here," she said, flashing a winning smile. Harry couldn't help but snort and shake his head. Only one person would blow up the Dursley's fireplace, crash in their living room, cover the whole place in ash, and still have the nerve to call it terrific.

Only Rony Weasley, his greatest friend in the entire world.

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 **Author's notes: ...And Ron's a girl! Because, why not? I just thought it could be interesting and more dynamic plot-wise to have a few characters gender-bended. So many possibilities... but don't worry, the rest shall be revealed soon. I hope. Now on to what's important: please follow and** favorite **to your heart's content. Those things are life breaths of life to an author. And review too!** You liked **it?** You didn't **like it? Tell me all about it, I'll take everything, praise ("this so good please moar"), encouragement ("update soon"), questions ("Does this have a plot? Where are you going with this?"), suggestions ("harry should totally get it on with Madame Maxime"), criticism ("Dude you just copied C.C.'s power"), and even flames ("You, sir, are a deviant and are ought to be never allowed again near a word processor."), just make sure leave a review telling me what you thought.** **I promise I'll do my best to get back to you if that's required.**

 **I borrowed a few words from A Goblet of Fire. I hope that's not too much of a sin. Please don't crucify me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes: Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and follows. Please review again and tell me what you think!**

* * *

"...And Pavarti wrote she thinks her parents are also keeping some secret from her," Rony told him from her position laying next to him. "She said they keep smiling whenever they talk about Hogwarts. She's afraid they've arranged some betrothal for her."

Harry exhaled sharply. "What? What does that have to do with Hogwarts?"

"Huh? Everything? Don't be dense, mate," she said, turning her head to him. "Could be very well a boy from school, couldn't it? Her dad works at the ministry, lots of other dads do too. Do the math."

Harry laughed a little then. It was his turn to face her.

"What math? The math that she's fourteen?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "Pavarti - and you - are overreacting, no one's getting married. Yourself told me marriage contracts aren't even a thing in the wizarding world."

"...Well, not anymore," Rony conceded, a bit of colour coming to her cheeks. "But it was once, okay? Who's to say her parents won't try to bring it back?"

Harry smiled. "I say. Pavarti is not getting a marriage contract. And neither are you, nor Ginny, or Hermione. And if you are I'll talk to Mr Weasley so that you get married off to me."

Rony punched him in the arm.

"Ouch!"

"Arse, who said anything about me?"

Harry rubbed the spot, laughing. "Sorry, sorry."

"Oi, do you mind?! Some are trying to sleep here!" One of the twins shouted from his bed.

"Sorry, George," Harry threw back.

There was some rustling from the bed and then a muffled, "I'm Fred."

Harry and Rony tried to stifle their laughter and not upset her brothers any further. The moon hung high in the sky outside of the Twin's bedroom, and owls hooted in the distance – the only other sound trying to break the night's peace around the Burrow. Insider her brother's room, the two teens laid side-by-side in silence, their back to the mattress whilst they watched the enchanted drawings of muggle cars play their usual game of race on the ceiling.

Harry remembered the first time he had slept there, in the summer before his second year at Hogwarts. After a turbulent break out of his relatives' house they – the twins, Rony, and Harry – had arrived at a crowded Burrow; Mr and Mrs Weasley naturally shared a bedroom, so did the twins, Rony and Ginny shared one too, and only Percy had a whole room for himself. The adults then decided to bunk Harry with the older teen. Except that turned to be a mistake, after Percy's numerous complaints that Harry and Rony would not allow him to study in peace after-hours, and in the end, Harry moved to Fred and George's room.

He smiled to himself, recalling how he and Rony would stay awake until late, talking about Quidditch until Mrs Weasley came to drag her back to her own bedroom. As time went on, however, sometimes she would forget, and Rony would fall sleep with the twins and Harry. It was a summer of fond memories for him.

But times – and people – change. Only two years prior he could sleep right next to Rony as innocently as a brother, and although he still thought of himself that way, his body had in itself to betray him.

As if on cue his eyes fell to the strained bust and the generous amount of cleavage escaping from the top of her pyjamas. Those were the times Harry wished the Weasleys had a bit more of money so their children would not be forced to wear few-sizes-too-short clothes that showed too much skin.

His only choice was to avert his eyes and pretended not to be bothered.

However, this was not a new development for Harry. His torment begun as early as that second year, right after the Heir of Slytherin announced to the whole school Ginny had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets, never to return. They were twelve then, but even his young and grief-struck brain could not stop itself from noticing how nice her quickly-developing body felt, as she clung to him and cried her eyes out against his neck. That night, he had left her asleep in Gryffindor's Tower and descended together with Lockhart to fight the Heir of Slytherin, but not even the basilisk venom burning through his veins remained a more vivid memory than the soft feeling of Rony's chest against his own. It probably didn't help that Rony herself would remind him of it every time she drew him into one of her bear-hugs she inherited from her mother.

"I can't wait to go to the World Cup," said Rony, taking Harry away from his thoughts.

"Me neither," he said.

"I wish we could go tomorrow."

"There's no point though, the game's only in two days," Harry said.

"I know, but..." Rony said, pouting.

"D'you think we'll meet the guys from school?" Harry inquired after a moment.

"Maybe," she replied. "Doesn't matter, because we won't stay the in the stands anyway. Dad said our tickets are for the Minister's cabin."

"Wow."

"Why?" Rony said, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. "Anyone you wanna meet?"

"What?" Harry said. "Not really. Just wondering. You?"

"Nah," she said, "I'm alright. Can wait another month to see the same old faces."

Harry didn't reply. In fact, there was someone he wanted to meet again as fast as he could, but he knew better than to talk about seeing an 'enemy player', as Rony would say, right in the most competitive Quidditch place in the world. Harry never quite got why his best friend disliked Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Chaser, so much; he guessed the girl was too competitive for her own good, thus he preferred to leave his crush out of the conversation most the time.

"Hermione's coming tomorrow," said Rony. "After breakfast, I think."

Harry noted the even tone of his friend voice; it almost made him sigh. In his three years of school, there wasn't an advice that been repeated to him more than, "Stay away from birds' business." It was only natural after it became the standard for him to hang out more with two girls than his male dorm-mates. He lost count how many times he had heard it from one of the upper-years, especially Fred and George, every time Rony and Hermione seemed to give each other the cold shoulder for whatever reason. Every time he would get stuck in the middle with no clue of what to do. "Do nothing, stay away from birds' business, let them sort it between themselves; don't pick a side," had been his modus-operandi so far – and so far, it had worked.

The first year was bad. Bad as in Rony and Hermione hated each other instantly for no apparent reason. Okay, maybe not for no reason, as Harry remembered clearly Hermione kept trying to show off during classes and lecture Rony about the various topics of study, and Rony in return would make fun of about anything related to the girl. Harry recalled how vicious Rony had gotten at some point, managing to drive the other girl into hiding in the girl's restroom to cry her feelings away. It had led to Harry saving Hermione from a troll attack, and the two becoming friends. The guilt of almost indirectly killing the girl had forced Rony to apologize, clearing the waters a bit between the two. Although, the girls never truly became friends, at least not until the end of the year, when the three braved the trap-door bellow Fluffy to save the Philosopher's Stone.

Even with everything they went through after that, it only got that bad again after Harry was gifted his Firebolt, and Hermione had it confiscated by McGonagall. The girls' fight was a sight to behold and only didn't switch from words to spells due to the prefects' timely arrival. Their relationship had been cold ever since, and Harry suspected that even though himself had long forgiven Hermione, Rony hadn't.

"Wonder how Mr Weasley's taking so many people," he said, hoping to avoid the conversation.

"I didn't think she would want to go," Rony said as though she didn't hear him. "I mean, she doesn't even like Quidditch that much, right?"

Harry knew answering that question was a trap. Agree with Rony and she would keep going for a while; defend Hermione and he would upset Rony; Hmm'ing a response would have the same effect as agreeing, except Rony would still be upset he didn't agree with her. So he played his last card.

"Maybe she's going to see Viktor Krum?"

Rony furrowed her brow at him. "Does she even know who Viktor Krum is?"

"He's pretty famous. You said so yourself."

Rony brought a finger to her chin. "Hmm, maybe she does. He is actually really famous and only a couple years older than us. Youngest seeker playing for..."

And that was Harry's clue. With Rony's attention successfully diverted for the moment, he opened his mouth wide and yawned, before closing his eyes. As he expected she did not pursue the discussion, and a couple minutes later he felt her head lightly touch his shoulder, signalling she had settled down to sleep. Safe under his second favourite roof in the world, and his best friend next to him, it wasn't long before Harry drifted to the land of dreams.

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He woke up to a warm feeling on his face. Sunlight flashed through the open windows, shining over wardrobe, desks, and unmade beds alike. Rony's familiar scent of strawberries lingered next to him, but her side had long gone cold. Everyone else had already woken it seemed. Still drowsy from sleep he picked up a towel and walked to the bathroom.

The Burrow's bathroom could only be described as fitting for the house it belonged to. The sink and the toiled had four, perhaps five feet between them; the vanities wooden cabinet adding to the sensation of crampiness. The old tarnished mirror sparkled in the morning light, and a curtain hid the bath he knew to exist on the north side of the cubicle.

Harry bent over the sink, resting his weight on his arms, bringing his face closer to its reflection. The mirror was hazy, the warm and damp air of the bathroom clouding it; someone must have just taken a bath before him. He slid his palm over the surface, clearing a patch.

 _Still there._

The flying eagle of the Geass stared back at him, shining red inside his right eye. After confirming no one else could see it the day before, Harry hadn't quite forgotten about it after reuniting with the families of redheads, but the day before, with all the excitement of coming back and the ruckus of dinner on the garden, he had pushed the matter to the back of his head.

The truth was, his power worried him. He had no idea how the Geass would work now. On Aunt Petunia he had guessed – quite wildly to be honest – that his own desire to be loved by her had affected the woman. Here, everyone already loved him (at least he hoped so). He didn't need to repair a relationship with Mrs Weasley, Rony, Hermione, or Ginny. The Geass hadn't affected Uncle Vernon or Dudley, but would it act the same to the male members of the family? He could only wait now to see how it would turn out.

Harry stepped out of his pyjamas, baring his body to the warm air. He gave a sudden, harsh push to the curtains and raised a leg to step into the magically filled ba-

Pink flesh, slightly reddened by the scalding water. Freckles covering the small, delicate shoulders, travelling down until they disappeared under the water. Damp crimson hair stuck to a calm, relaxed face. Neck bend backwards over the edge of the bathtub; head resting against the wall.

Slowly, she turned to him; lazy eyes opened to stare into his own. Bright brown meeting emerald green.

No one moved. No one breathed.

Her eyes dropped down his body, past neck, chest, abs, to stop someplace below his navel.

Seconds passed, and Harry saw clear as day the blood rushing up to Ginny Weasley's head, her skin going to a shade of red matching her hair.

Harry slammed the curtains shut.

"Sorry!" he shouted as he tried to wear the bottom of his pyjamas again and run out of the bathroom at the same time.

It was many minutes before he felt safe to leave the twin's room again. He forsook the bath altogether and went down directly to the garden, where the family had meals when the kitchen became too small for the number of people in the house.

He followed the voices outside. The smell of bacon and eggs assaulted his nostril, and Harry took a deep breath to appreciate the finer things in life before crossing to the outside.

Under the gentle morning Sun, The Weasleys' scrubbed wooden table was almost as full as it had been the night before when the whole family plus Harry had dinner under the stars. Mr Weasley sat at the head of the table, cup of tea and half-eaten toast laying in front of him, in his hands an open _Daily Prophet_ hid his face from Harry's eyes. Charlie and Bill, who he had met the day before, occupied the two sides of their father, each fully dressed and apparently ready for the day. They seemed to be talking about something related to Bill's job with Gringotts. Percy was ready too, judging from the bussiness-like robe he wore and his empty plate; He too had a _Prophet_ in his hands, held in the same style his father did. Fred and George sat side-by-side like always, whispering to each other, oddly quiet. Rony was the closest to the entrance, hunched over her breakfast, probably assaulting an innocent sandwich; she was in pyjamas, like him. Mrs Weasley was the only one standing, arranging food over the table. She was the first to see him.

"Good morning, Harry, dear," she said with a kind smile.

All the redheads turned to him.

"Good morning, Mrs Weasley," he said. "Everyone."

A round of "Morning, Harry"s later he took the vacant place beside Rony.

"So, Percy," said Harry, filling his plate with toasts and jelly. "You going to work today?"

Percy put down his journal. With an upturned nose, he said, " Mr Crouch needs me today at the Ministry. It's imperative I'm there to oversee the printing of the manifest for cauldron thickness."

"It's Saturday, Percy," said Rony. "Mr Crouch isn't even at the Ministry."

Percy's cheeks flushed pink. "He still appointed me to carry out the task, and I shall see it through to the very best of my capabilities."

"Perce, I'm sure Mr Crouch can hardly go about his day without his day without imagining how is the manifest going," said Fred.

Percy opened his mouth to reply, but Mrs Weasley interrupted him, settling down a large cake on the table.

"Now, boys," she said. "Behave yourselves. Harry, dear, would you like some cake? I still think you should eat up more; those dreadful muggles didn't feet you nearly enough as always."

She rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harry said. "I think I'll have some."

Harry was on his second slice when Ginny turned up from the house. Cheeks still quite pink, she refused to even look in his general direction as she sat on the other side of the table next to Charlie.

"Father, any news on that mass obliviation cases?" said Percy, perhaps to make a show that he knew of other ministry business.

"Still nothing, I'm afraid," said Mr Weasley. "That one had been driving Director Bones up the walls; I've heard she's considering employing the aid of the Auror Office, but nothing's concrete yet..."

"Any dark wizards about?" Charlie spoke up.

"Merlin, I hope not, son," Mr Weasley said and shook his head. "And those poor muggles..."

"What happened?" Harry asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

"There have been a number of attacks on groups of muggles this summer," explained Percy. "They've all been found obliviated out of their senses and unable to even form sentences. A fate worse than death, Mr Crouch said."

"Now, we don't know if they were attacks," said Mr Weasley. "For all we know they might be accidents or simple misuse of magic. I agree with Amelia that is wise to wait before declaring someone is targeting muggles."

"What about Black? Isn't he still at large in Britain?" asked Bill. Harry and Rony shared a nervous look.

"I don't think so," said Mr Weasley. "Word is Shacklebolt is tracking him down through Eastern Europe."

Harry fought a smile down. From his letters, Sirius seemed to be enjoying a jolly old time someplace warm with lots of palm trees and bikini-clad women.

"Well, whatever it is," spoke Percy. "It would be best to solve this as soon as possible; St Mungus can only host so many empty-headed muggles. Not to say what those unchecked incidents might mean for _that_ event."

"There he goes again," murmured Rony. Louder she said, "Oi, Percy, no one cares about your cauldron exhibition, you can stop trying to be secretive about it."

"It is not a cauldron exhibition," said Percy through clenched teeth.

"Is it a report exhibition?" said Fred.

"A Mr Crouch exhibition?" said George.

Percy went red again and the table - sans Mr and Mrs Weasley - laughed and chuckled at the boy's predicament. Amidst the good mood, Harry caught Ginny's eyes, and the girl promptly looked away, colour returning to her cheeks.

The laughter died down and Harry cleared his throat. "So, how Hermione's coming?"

Mr Weasley put his paper down and checked his wristwatch.

"She should be coming through the floo anytime soon," said Mr Weasley. "We've managed to link her house's fireplace to the network this summer. When you kids finish up we can wait for her in the living room – sounds good?"

About half an hour – and a thankfully unoccupied bath – later Harry stood in the living room together with Rony and Mr and Mrs Weasley. They all watched the fireplace expectantly – well maybe not all, for Rony had brought a _Witch Weekly_ and sat on the couch, lazily flipping the pages as she alternated between actually looking at the magazine and stealing glances to the fire.

Luckily, they didn't wait too long. A sudden bright flash of green and a figure spun out of the fireplace, almost stumbling onto the carpet, but managing to catch herself just in time. Hermione took a moment to gather her bearings, looking around the living room, long bushy brown hair swinging left and right.

Examining the girl, Harry couldn't be happier to see his summer predictions had been right.

Hermione had begun to really develop at the beginning of the year. Her previously lean legs began filling the pants she liked to use on the weekends nicely over the course of the term and now thick thighs threatened to burst her skin-tight jeans. Her hips had widened, and a small gap could be seen between her legs. The jumper she chose to wear hid her slim waist and the slightly tanned skin she got every summer in France.

Pushing down a flush, Harry caught her eyes and returned the bright smile she was shooting him.

"Hermione, be welcome, my dear!" said Mrs Weasley, stepping forward to envelop the thinner girl in a hug.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," she replied, struggling a bit to push her breath out.

"Welcome, Hermione," said Mr Weasley warmly.

"Thanks, Mr Weasley."

Rony threw her magazine to the side and rose up to face her friend. Disentangling from the older woman, Hermione turned to her. There was a quick, but long moment where stared at each other.

"Rony," said Hermione. She smiled at the redhead and walked over to hug her as well.

"Hi, Hermione," Rony said back.

At last Hermione turned to him, and her face open again in pearly whites. Her trunk hit the floor as she practically jumped at him, catching him in a hug perhaps tighter than Mrs Weasley's had been. Harry involved her waist with his arms, returning the affectionate gesture, and breathed deeply into her jasmine-scented hair.

"Hello, Harry," she said, beaming, and let go.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Hermione, dear, are you hungry? The boys and Ginny are still outside having breakfast," said Mrs Weasley.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley, but I've eaten already," she said.

"Your parents didn't have any problems with the floo, did they?" asked Mr Weasley. "We went to pick Harry up from his relatives, they had this – how do you call it, Harry? Eccletic fire?"

Harry chuckled. "Electric fire, sir."

"That's it! Blocked our floo – ended up being a big mess that one..." said the older wizard.

"Everything was perfect, Mr Weasley," said Hermione, then shot a playful smirk at Harry. "Though I'd think Harry would warn his relatives about the floo."

Before Harry could retort with an insolent remark, Mr Weasley said:

"Harry didn't know we would use the network to get him. Although, now that you mention it – didn't I tell you to warn Harry, Rony?"

Rony shrugged.

Mrs Weasley shook her head at her daughter. "Rony, go show Hermione the girl's room," she said, then turned to the other teen, smiling once again. "Please make yourself at home, dear."

Hermione nodded, and the adults left the room to go about their business. The three teens looked at each other for a moment, then Harry moved to pick the bushy-haired girl's trunk.

"Thank you, Harry," said Hermione, raising an eyebrow and sounding impressed.

Rony rolled her eyes. "Such a gentleman," she said.

The three made their way to the bedroom Ginny and her sister usually slept in. Rony at the front, followed by Hermione, and Harry by the rear.

 _And what a rear._

As they went up the stairs, Harry couldn't quite look away from the behind that swung right and left with each step up. For such a slim girl, Hermione packed a lot of meat in her lower body. Long, strong legs supported one of the fullest and most shapely arse Harry the pleasure to set his eyes on, and the jeans trying to contain it only added to the impression of tightness the two globes seemed to want him to have. _It probably feels better than Aunt Petunia's_. And Harry did not think that lightly, as he had enjoyed the grown woman's rear entrance to his heart content and never had a single complaint about it.

Far too quickly they arrived at the girl's room, and Harry had to take his eyes off that piece of anatomy perfection lest it became too obvious he had been looking. _That_ was a conversation he did not want to have. He settled the trunk over Rony's bed and watched as the redhead struggled to take a mattress from under her sister's bed.

"So, how was France, Hermione?" he said to break the silence.

"Oh, It was lovely, Harry," said the girl excitedly. "We went to this town down to the south of the country that had this amazing historical site – a library, can you believe?"

"I didn't know there were open-air libraries," said Rony, shooting a smirk at the bushy-haired girl. "Was there where you got that tan?"

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink, but she did not back down. "No, but we also went to some beautiful beaches there, " she said. "Really, France is fascinating. You two should come with us next year; mum and dad would love to have you."

"Hmm," said Rony, still rummaging in the room to make space for the other girl's things.

As Hermione went on about the details of her trip, Harry sat down heavily on Rony's bed, reclining on the wall for comfort. A moment later and Hermione followed his example, slouching down next to him, without stopping her lecture. Harry couldn't help but notice the heat of her leg and arm lazily brushing against his.

They were interrupted by the sounds of brisk, short whacks coming in succession from outside in the corridor, and the sudden opening of the door. A small redhead scanned the room in quick breathes, then settled her eyes on Rony.

"Rony, Charlie's wants to know if you want to play Quidditch with the boys," Ginny breathed out.

Rony raised an eyebrow. "Just me?"

"No," said Ginny quickly, "Hermione and…

"... y-you too Harry," she said, looking anywhere but Harry.

Then she hurried out of the room faster than Peeves running away from the Baron.

There was a moment of silence, then:

"What was that about?" said Hermione.

Rony frowned and shot Harry an accusatory glare. "Does she still have that stupid crush on you?"

"I don't know," replied Harry. "And why are you speaking as if it's my fault?!"

Rony humpf'd and looked away.

0000000

It was still dark when, the next day, the six teenagers found themselves traveling down the muddy, narrow lane that crossed the village of Ottery St. Satchpole. They walked in silence, following Mr Weasley's lead; Harry right after Fred and George - the twins still grumpy about their mother confiscating their Ton-Tongue Toffees - doing his best to stay warm in the chilly morning breeze, and Rony abreast, rubbing shoulders with him to ward off the cold.

Hermione came right behind them, together with Ginny. The younger redhead girl had regained some measure of composure around him after they spend the afternoon together trying to kill each other with Bludgers. Harry was thankful for it; he didn't know if he could stomach a return to her years of frightened silence and blushing embarrassment whenever he was close. She was in fact quite pretty, and he enjoyed talking to her.

"Ah," exclaimed George as if he had just remembered something. He turned his neck at Harry, to look at him over his shoulder, a smirk on his lips."Hey, Harry, did anyone tell who we're going to the World Cup with?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Are we going to have company?" asked Hermione.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, same teasing smirking on his face. "You bet we are. And what company, don't you say, brother?"

"Fine company indeed, brother," said George.

There were a few seconds of silence, as Fred and George seemed to wait for someone to get it out for them. When no one said anything, they shared a knowing looking.

"Well, who is it?" said Harry impatiently.

"Why, Harry," said Fred. "None other than your old friend Diggory"

Oh. Oh.

Harry tried a glance at Rony from the corner of his eyes. The girl stared pointedly ahead as if refusing to even acknowledge the conversation going on.

If there was one person Rony disliked more than the Ravenclaw Seeker, it was the Hufflepuff Seeker. One time during their third year during a match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Harry fell off his broom, almost digging his own grave, later spending many hours unconscious in the medical wing. That, of course, had led to the Badgers' own Seeker, the sixth-year Ciddi Diggory, catching the Snitch and securing the victory to her house. Afterwards, Rony had unreasonably placed both the reasons for Harry's injury and Gryffindor's defeat on the older girl and had never quite forgiven her.

"Really? I didn't know she lived around here," said Harry.

"The Diggories live just up north the village," said Fred.

George turned to walk backwards while facing Harry, "So, what you say, Harry? Good time for some inter-house socialising?" he said while drawing a curvaceous shape with his hands over his form.

"You are disgusting," said Ginny with a sneer. "By the way, I doubt she'd give you the time of her day, even if she was so inclined."

"What do you mean 'so inclined'? Of course she'd be inclined," replied Fred.

Rony snorted. "She means 'not interested'," she said, "as in 'she doesn't want what you got to offer'."

Fred furrowed his brow even further. "What are you trying to imply?"

His sister shot him a wicked smile. "Word on the corridors is that she plays for the other team."

"Kids," said Mr Weasley in a warning voice, looking at them.

"Just what I heard, dad," said Rony.

"That is not the issue. I don't want to hear this kind of talk near Amos Diggory, do you understand me?"

"Okay. Sorry, dad."

Mr Weasley turned back to the road, and Fred's head snapped back over his shoulder.

"You're full of dragon dung," he said.

Rony shrugged.

The conversation died down then, though for no small reason due to the uphill battle they began to fight. Stoatshead Hill was supposedly the last stretch before their destination, where they would find the cryptic Portkey.

Reaching the top of the hill between gasps for air and groans of discomfort, they put themselves to look for whatever small object Mr Weasley would take them to Quidditch World Cup. A couple minutes of fumbling in the deep blue light on the morning when a voice called up to them:

"Over here, Arthur! We've got it!"

Two figures walked up to them, tall against the slow dawning on the horizon.

"Amos!" shouted Mr Weasley back, strolling over to shake the hand of a ruddy-faced man holding an old-looking boot.

"You remember Amos Diggory, everyone? He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," said Mr Weasley, then he gave them a pointed look. "I believe you already know his daughter, Ciddi."

"Hi, guys," said a tall, beautiful brunette.

They replied with various degrees of enthusiasm. The boys, energetically and congenially; the girls, curt and polite; and Rony more or less grunted.

As the adults begun trading their usual niceties, Harry took a moment to… inspect the new arrival.

Ciddi Diggory was not considered by many the most attractive girl in Hogwarts for nothing. Even wearing a thick wool jumper and baggy sweater pants, her generous curves were more than discernible to the onlookers; her full breasts were mountains that disturbed the perfect flatness of the front of her body; her long brown hair was tied up in loose ponytail that seemed effortless and elegant in equal amounts; and although her face had a strong quality to it, it still managed to look feminine, and her dark brown, expressive eyes stared back at him as if stalking a prey.

Wait a moment.

Harry's own eyes widened when he understood she caught him leering at her, and he felt the heat coming to his face. The right edge of her lips upturned and she winked at him.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" He was brought back to the moment by the loud exclamation of Amos Diggory. He looked around himself nervously to see all eyes on him. Ciddi sported a full teasing smile now.

"Y-Yes, sir," was his knee-jerk response.

Mr Diggory spent a couple, uncomfortable seconds openly staring at his scar before speaking again.

"Ciddi's talked about you, of course," he said. "Told us all about playing against you last year... I said to her, I said — Ciddi, that'll be something to tell your sons, that will... You beat _Harry Potter_!"

That irked Harry, but for politeness sake's he didn't say anything. Rony was glaring at the man by then.

Ciddi gave a small laughter. "Harry fell off his broom, dad, I told you," she said. "It was an accident, wasn't it, Harry?"

"Dementors on the grounds," Rony replied for him.

"That's terrible, of course, terrible," said Mr Diggory. "But a fall's a fall - you can't be falling out your broom if you aim to be the best, can you? Say, Ciddi, you told me you made sure Harry was alright after the match? Visited the infirmary?"

"I did, dad. It was an ugly fall."

"Say, why not go the extra mile and help him with some flying lessons? Couldn't hurt, I reckon," said Mr Diggory genially.

It was such a rude statement that Harry did not know if the man had really just insulted him or if he had actually proposed it in good-nature. He expected Ceddi to instantly correct her father and apologize, but he was struck again as she turned to him with that teasing smile.

"Might be fun. What do you say, Harry?"

Mr Diggory was delighted.

Suddenly all the eyes were on him again, waiting for his answer. Mr Weasley looked slightly apologetic and amused at the same time, Fred and George looked jealous, and the girls' faces were as if carved out of stone.

"Thanks, Ciddi, Mr Diggory, but we're both the Seekers for our houses - I don't think the teams would be too happy," he said at last.

"Yes, yes, the old house rivalry, that could certainly be a problem," said Mr Diggory. "Well, that's a shame really."

"Must be nearly time," said Mr Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any one else, Amos?"

Harry was relieved when the attention moved to the portkey. Yes, apart from the humiliating implications, he would not have minded 'flying lessons' with Ciddi at all. Even then he could imagine her athletic and curvaceous body against his as she 'taught' him how to 'probably mount' the boom, and, to be honest, it was not a bad fantasy. _I'm a hot-blooded male for Merlin's sake._ But he knew it would ultimately be more trouble than it was worth.

00000000000

Little did Harry know that meeting Ceddi was only the beginning of a very trying day.

After a heart-stopping portkey travel, a run with the Muggle caretaker of the campsite where the World Cup would be taking place, and helping Mr Weasley set their tent, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were sent away to gather water for Mr Weasley's muggle undertakings around the fire. With the girls volunteering to help him with the task, Rony was left to laze about in their tent and catch up to few a more hours of sleep.

It was not a quick or relaxed trip in any way. As they travelled the many-shaped tents, Harry seemed to inexplicably attract the attention of a lot of people. Sometimes the group could not walk ten feet before a witch would stop them to ask one question or another, or simply to ask Harry's name as if they already knew who he was. Most of the time that would lead to their husbands and friends coming out of their tents to meet the famous Boy-Who-Lived, and they would all stand around talking about his grand feat of heroism defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or how everyone was so honoured to meet him. At one point, Ginny and Hermione began to actively try to drive them off with rude remarks - which might not have uncharacteristic for Rony but wasn't something he knew the two girls to do.

Things did not get better, but certainly got stranger when they met Ginny's longtime friend Luna Lovegood sitting outside of a picturesque, colourful two-store tent. Among old men wearing nightgowns and witches who might haven fashionable two hundred years prior, the petite blonde girl was not the weirdest dressed person on the camp, but with her Butterbeer caps necklace, Dirigible Plum earrings, and glasses that looked quite literally to be cut from bottle bottoms, she was clearly trying.

She rose and walked up to them when she saw her friend walking by.

"Hullo, Ginny," said the girl, magnified eyes scanning them. She had a sort of gentle, distant voice as if she were not quite sure they were there.

"Hi, Luna," said Ginny back.

"Did you just arrive?"

"Yes. About two hours ago, I think?" Ginny said.

"I see. Too bad you couldn't come with daddy and I earlier," Luna said. "We've been hunting heliopaths all week. Daddy reckons they wouldn't miss the chance to hit such a large gathering of wizards."

"Heliopaths?" said Hermione, scowling. Harry didn't know that the blonde was talking about either, but it at least made him feel better if his book-worm friend couldn't recall it from memory.

Ginny threw them a nervous glance.

"Ah, Luna, these are my friends; they came with us to watch the match today. Harry, Hermione, this is Luna Lovegood, she's a Ravenclaw fourth year," she said.

"Hermione Granger, nice to meet you," said Hermione, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione."

Harry also offered the girl his hand. "Hi, I'm-"

"Harry Potter, I know," Luna said. She took off the glasses then as if to inspect him better. Without the enlarging lenses, her eyes were a baby blue and still quite big, which made nothing to diminish the dreamy look about her. "Ginny and I used to talk about you until we fell asleep when we were kids."

Ginny's eyes went as big as saucers, and her face as red as her hair.

"Luna!" she breathed. Besides, Hermione did her best to stifle a laughter.

Luna paid no attention to her, eyes never quite leaving Harry's. "Are you here to stop the Rotfang Conspiracy?"

Harry's eyes shifted quickly to Hermione and Ginny then back again. "Hmm, no?"

Luna's big eyes finally moved away from him then, to stare at her redhead friend. "So he's really not like we thought, huh?" she said sounding just a little bit disappointed. "I had hoped."

Ginny gave an awkward, short laugh.

"Luna, that's just a story," she said in a low voice.

Luna ignored her again and turned to him.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Harry," she said, then took the hand he hadn't noticed was still extended.

"Err, you too… Luna," he said.

There was a long moment where no one spoke and just sort of stood around in front of the tent. Luna did not take her eyes off him. It was Ginny who finally broke the silence:

"So, hmn, Luna, great seeing you, I'll think we'll be going now, have get water for dad and all that," she said. "See you after the match?"

"Sure, Ginny, it was nice to see you."

After everyone said goodbye to the girl, they all moved away, led by a still beet-red Ginny. Harry couldn't quite shake away the feeling of eyes on his back until they turned a corner.

The next Hogwarts' student they came across was also a Ravenclaw, and, for Harry at least, a much more pleasing encounter.

Cho Chang was the perfect girl. Long, sleek hair, as black as the raven's wing, framed her Asians features, then went on to fall over shoulders and down her back. Her thin, narrow face accentuated her small, pink lips and freckled nose, giving the girl a sort of otherworldly finesse. Below her pale neck, her womanly attributes did not leave anything to be desired either. How many times did Harry get distracted during a match watching the Quidditch uniform press against those curves and those breasts as she rode her broom against the wind? How many times he wished he could be on the Ravenclaw team for one day, just to be allowed to share the locker-room with her and maybe, just maybe take a peek at the skin beneath all that blue and bronze? Third year was a time full of fantasies for Harry, and the Seeker of Ravenclaw had been the star of more than a couple of them.

But it was not only that. In the few - too few - times they've spoken in the past, she showed herself a funny, kind, outspoken, and attentive girl. She had not been star struck when she met him the first time, neither had she treated him any different afterwards. She liked Quidditch and liked that _he_ liked Quidditch. And when she walked, when she put those legs one after the one, the gentle swaying of…

"Hi, Harry," said Cho Chang, stopping right before him and smiling sweetly.

Harry blinked, dragging himself back to the real world.

"Hi, Cho," he replied, a tad too quickly.

The Asian greeted the other two girls, then eyeing Ginny she said in an angelic tone, "You came with the Weasleys? Where's the other redhead, the tall one?"

"Sis's back in our tent," said Ginny without a hint of humour. "Why?"

"Nothing, I was just surprised to see Harry alone; they're always together."

"Harry's not alone," said Hermione.

"I know," replied Cho, scowling slightly. She turned fully to Harry. "Sorry, Harry. Are you excited for the match?"

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be my first official Quidditch match too, so… yeah."

"Really? The World Cup finale is your first?! You're in for a treat then," said the girl enthusiastically. "I've been to a few matches with my family over the years, and they're fantastic - nothing like what we have in school, you'll see."

"Are you here with them?"

"Yes, been for almost a week now," Cho said. "It was insane getting tickets too - such long queues; we didn't get very good seats. You?"

"Just arrived today," said Harry. "Mr Weasley got pretty good seats actually, in the Minister's booth."

"Wow, that's impressive," Cho said, then her lips curled slightly downward. "That means we won't be seeing each other down in the stands?"

He laughed ruefully."I guess we won't..."

"Hey, but then you'll see Viktor Krum much more closely, right?" Cho said, returning to being cheerful. "The best Seeker in the world? I know I'd like to learn something from him."

"Yeah, they say he's really good," said Harry. "Rony's a fan; talks a lot about him."

Cho arched a delicate eyebrow at that. "Does she?"

"Yes, must have told me a dozen times about his career," said Harry.

Cho laughed softly, hiding her mouth behind slender fingers. "Oh, Harry, you're so innocent."

Harry laughed too, though without really knowing why. "What does that mean?"

She touched him lightly on the arm. "Nothing."

"Harry, I think we should be going, Mr Weasley is still waiting for us," said Hermione.

Harry felt a pang of annoyance, but was forced to agree with his friend; it had been a long time. _Would they let me stay if I told them to go without me?_ Unlikely.

"Okay. So, Cho, see you at school?" he said to the Asian.

"Sure, Harry," she said. "And you better pick up those Krum moves; I've been looking for a rematch for a long time."

"I'll try." He smiled.

Hermione and Ginny did not allow any more stops after that. Forcing their way through the maze of tents, shooting half-hearted apologies, they finally managed to collect what they went there for. Mr Weasley ended up not needing the water at all since by the time they were back Percy and the other boys had arrived and convinced their father to use magic. Ginny complained about wasted time, and even Hermione didn't look all too pleased, but Harry couldn't bring himself to be disappointed. After all, for him, the trip hadn't been a waste at all.

But that ray of sunlight on a stormy morning.

The afternoon passed as peacefully as it could be expected just before a very big occasion: with an ever increasing sense of excitement and anticipation. Parties began popping everywhere around the moor, salesmen running out trying to sell their charmed goods, and ministry official chasing the open displays of magic like cats in a rat's nest. It all came together when night fell, and they were finally allowed to move onto the lamp-lit trail out of the forest; Harry and thousand others buzzing like ants as they walked to the enormous stadium.

The minister's box was the highest one. Situated between the two golden goals posts and overlooking the quickly filling crowd below, it possibly had the very best view anyone could afford for the match. Rony and Hermione seated on each side of him, and for a while, before the remaining chairs were taken, entertained themselves with a female house-elf by the name of Winky, who had been saving a seat for her master. After that, Minister Fudge stole Harry away for himself, taking him around the chairs, introducing him to various dignitaries and people of importance.

"I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing," he was saying after the Bulgarian minister made a fool of himself pointing to Harry's scar. "Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat... Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places… ah, and here's Lucius!"

All heads turned to the entrance of the booth, where, true enough, a tall man with long platinum blonde hair emerged from the stairs. Holding his trademark cane and wearing what looked like the most expensive set of robes Harry had ever seen, Lucius Malfoy was the perfect picture of an aristocrat.

Fudge almost hauled Harry together with him to greet the pureblood.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr Malfoy, shaking the Minister's hand. "How are you?"

"Perfectly fine, Lucius, thank you. And you? I don't think you've met young Harry Potter?" said Fudge in a single breath. He reminded Harry of a kid showing off a new toy.

"Mr Potter and I have… acquainted before. I trust he is… safe?" said Mr Malfoy.

"Perfectly, sir. Never been better actually," said Harry, staring into the man's blue eyes with defiance.

Mr Malfoy's smile was thin. "Let's hope you stay that way."

Fudge, oblivious to the tension between the two wizards, kept his enthusiastic smile. He moved a little out of the way for the approaching Bulgarian Minister. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr Oblansk — Obalonsk — Mr — well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic..." Fudge drawled on, and Lucius Malfoy shot Harry a last contemptuous look, before walking closer to socialize with the Bulgarian. Harry sneered back, turning his head away just in time to catch the next person coming up the stairs.

Here, Harry must correct an earlier statement of his: neither the Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff Seekers was the person Rony hated the most. That title belonged to the Slytherin Seeker.

She was a small thing really. More than a head shorter than Harry, even Ginny was taller than her. She had chosen to don her sleek, white-blonde hair in a tight bun on the back of her head, in opposition to the usual hair-band she wore at school. Cold, grey eyes glared at him over a small, slightly turned-up nose, and a pitch-black pelts robe hid what he knew to be a flat chest and sticks for legs.

"Potter," said Diana Malfoy, his longtime enemy. "Why did I have the feeling I would meet you here?"

"Because you're an annoying midget that keeps following me around?" he replied, looking down at her.

"You ineptitude for humour is only trumped by your talent for showing up at places you're not desired," Malfoy said drily. She shook her head, looking around the box. "How did you get here anyway?"

"I can't see how that's any of your business."

Malfoy smirked. "Just curious, Potter. Can't imagine your parents bringing you to such a _lively_ place."

Harry could feel the blood rushing to his head and grit his teeth, glaring at her. Seeing how he had nothing to retort, Diana's smirk grew. There was movement behind Harry, and a voice called.

"Harry, why are you standing around there for?"

It was Rony who walked up to them. She set herself next to him - the redhead around his height - before turning her head to blonde Slytherin. She stared for a couple seconds before doing what she always did whenever Malfoy was in her presence: she crossed her arms just below her chest, pushing up and accentuating her already plenty sizeable breasts.

"Funny. I thought dad said they weren't allowing children in the higher stands," she said, feigning surprise.

Malfoy's disgust filled eyes were focused on Rony's chest. It was like she was looking a walking garbage.

After a moment, she turned to Harry.

"I see you brought your blood-traitor cow with you," she said. "Did no one teach you to leave such animals at the ranch?"

Rony opened her mouth to reply to Malfoy, but then another voice cut from behind the blonde.

"Diana, would you move out the way? You're blocking the entrance." The short girl walked aside, making way for the owner of the voice.

The person who came up the steps could be no one else but Diana's mother, Harry reckoned. Tall, slim, and blonde, the women exhaled elegance with her straight posture and held-high head. And beautiful too; with high cheekbones, glossy pink lips, and striking blue eyes, she looked straight out of one Rony's fashion magazines.

The older woman looked about them, before addressing her daughter.

"Friends from school? You didn't say we would be meeting them here," said the woman. She extended the back of her hand to Harry, in a way that left no doubts he was meant to kiss it. "Narcissa Malfoy."

Harry found himself on the spot once again. Diana glared, while Rony watched him for what he would do. Time stood still. Should he kiss her hand? She didn't seem to be doing it out of malice or wanting to humiliate him. But it would certainly be considered an offence on his part if he declined the custom. But did he even want to be polite to Malfoy's mother in the first place?

Deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, he took her hand and, inclining ever so slightly, brushed his lips against her gloved knuckles.

"Harry Potter, ma'am."

Her eyes came alive, light eyebrows shooting up into her forehead. She glanced briefly at her daughter.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Potter. You are certainly a famous person," she said, retreating her hand. "I trust Diana is not being too difficult of a friend."

He gave her a strained smile. "Not at all, ma'am."

"That is a relief to hear," Mrs Malfoy said, then her eyes travelled beyond the teenagers. She touched Diana's shoulder. "But I'm afraid you must excuse us now, Lucius is beckoning for us to meet the minister. I hope you enjoy the match."

Nodding to him once - and completely ignoring Rony - Mrs Malfoy walked past them, her daughter in tow. Diana glared at them one last time and followed.

They returned to their seat just as Ludo Bagman welcomed the audience, and the big blackboard on the opposite side of the stadium changed its advertising to the score of the match (currently at 0 vs 0). As the people down below exploded in cheers and waves of flags, and the teams' mascots prepared to enter the field, Rony leaned towards him in her seat.

"I can't believe you kissed her hand!" she said irritably, voice rushed, trying to overcome the noise of the audience.

"What was I supposed to do?!" he said. "I was just being polite."

"That was Malfoy's mother, Harry. She's probably worse than her daughter."

But then the veelas came into view, and all the thoughts of Narcissa or Diana Malfoy left his mind.

000000000

Harry was currently running as fast as his legs would allow. The weight on his arms making his chest hurt with every step.

The game had ended with Ireland's victory, even if the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum had caught the Snitch, and for a while most of the camp had been caught in the post-match festivities. Harry and the rest had relived the best moments late into the night and fell asleep only when their eyelids could barely afford to stay open anymore. But the day, staying true to itself, had not been about to end in such a nice tune.

He had woken up to nothing less than his tent going up in flames. Above him, Bill Weasley moved his mouth in silent screams as he shook Harry with all the ardour of a hysterical man. It took a moment for his consciousnesses to fully return and once it did all he heard were the cries and explosions outside. Bill dragged him into a sitting position, slapping Harry's face until the boy could make out his words. Blood running down his forehead and a burn on his left cheek, Bill told him the camp was being attacked by unknown wizards, and Mr Weasley, Charlie, and Percy had left to help the ministry. Harry and Bill were up to gather the girls and find a safe place to hide until reinforcements arrived.

Yet, as soon as they had left the tent, a spell spiralled in their direction, blowing up the very spot next to them. Harry was hauled to the side, rolling many times on the ground until he came to rest on his face, vision once again slipping into darkness. He had come about sometime later, to the same scene of the moor being consumed by fire. Destroyed tents, furniture, and personal belonging loitered the charred floor, and bodies laid sprawled all over the place; the air smelled of blood, ashes, and something akin to burned hair. Clumsily, Harry had searched for any sight of Bill, but without success. The girl's tent had also been destroyed, but luckily none of them - or their bodies - could be found.

He had not given up though, and searching through the many debris around, he had found Ginny sitting on the ground against what remained of someone's trunk. The girl had been unconscious, but, as if by a miracle, she only had a broken leg. He had taken the girl in his arms and proceeded on a laborious sprint for the forest in the distance.

The hellish scenario continued through the moor, with more and more destruction as he advanced. Harry had spotted wizards in full black cloaks and skull masks wandering about, destroying what was left standing. Understanding they had to be the ones responsible, he had hidden with Ginny until they were out of sight and he could proceed, all the while wondering how the Ministry had let something like that happen.

And that led to the present, where Harry carried the smaller redhead, finally closing in the tall outline of the trees, where they could find safety.

"You should have apparated, running won't do you any good," said a voice to his left, stopping Harry on his feet.

It belonged to woman leaning against a tree, donning the same black vest he saw on the wizards earlier, except she used no hood or mask, and her face was displayed on the open. A young face stared back at Harry, perhaps only a few years older. Wavy, auburn hair cascaded down her back, and the red symbol of a bird in flight was tattooed on her forehead.

"Oh, what a coincidence," she said, an amused smirk coming to her graceful features. "You're one of the chosen."

"You're - you're like D.D.," he said breathlessly. The implications of someone like her being there at that exact moment flashing in his head almost instantly.

"You know, you shouldn't be declaring your allegiance so openly," said the young woman, "or so early. The game is just beginning, after all."

Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand, and a cold chill go up his spine.

"W-What are you talking? Who are you? What's happening? Did you people do this?"

The woman looked away, face completely relaxed.

"Your Geass is still weak, I should have you dealt with right now," she said, then faced him again, shadows dancing over eyes. "But I like your power. It's certainly… interesting. I wonder what kind of life you led to end up with that. It should be fun to see how far you can go with it."

Harry fumbled for his wand while trying to balance Ginny's weight, but couldn't find it. He felt anger stir inside him.

"Damn it, tell me something useful!"

She sneered at him. "I'll tell you to get out of here and learn to use your Geass if you plan to stay alive. And fast too."

As if to make a point for her words another explosion thundered somewhere behind Harry. Still, he debated confronting the woman and demand answers, but a grunt from Ginny and the absence of his wand quickly made him doubt the wisdom of that decision. Throwing her one last irritated look, he broke for the trees.

Dodging twigs and stepping around grasping roots, his speed was much impaired inside the forest. The darkness was another factor to consider; the lamp-path had been extinguished, and the light from the burning World Cup only traveled so far - soon the only illumination among the leafs were the wands of the black-clad figures wandering the woods, most likely looking for anyone crazy enough to not have apparated away as soon as the attack began.

And that was another problem, as Harry had to sneak around the points of light, all the while his muscles burned from carrying Ginny for so long. At one point, he accepted he could not go on, not without where really he was going, or if the forest had an exit anywhere in the next ten miles. He set Ginny down in the spot between twin trees that managed to hide them well enough from anyone coming from most sides.

They spend a few minutes like that, with Ginny resting against the tree-trunk, and Harry couching besides her, keeping an eye out for the wand-lights. Harry wondered where the others might be and if they managed to escape quickly enough - hoping against hope they were among the… corpses he spotted among the destruction. Below him, Ginny groaned, opening her eyes groggily, a pained expression on her face.

"H-Harry?" she said weakly.

"Ssh, Ginny, it's me," he said in a low voice. "We've got to stay quiet."

She groaned again. "Where… are we...?"

Harry closed in on the girl. "Ginny, what happened?" he murmured.

"I can't… I don't remember," she replied, some strength coming back to her voice.

Harry nodded. "Okay, okay - Ginny listen to me, we're in the forest right now; the people who attacked the World Cup are really close by," he said, "they're looking for survivors."

She stared into his eyes with glistering brown orbs. "Who did this?"

Harry gulped. _I can't tell her there's someone else with the Geass out there - Merlin, she doesn't even know it exists._

"I don't know, Ginny," he said softly.

"What are we going to do?"

Harry's eyes went to the woods again. Slowly, the wand-lights were coming into their direction, and the sound of steps grew louder.

"We're gonna hide until the Ministry arrives," he told her. "If I had my wand I'd try something, but I lost it - yours is gone too; I checked."

Ginny shifted her head to the side and seemed to catch on the approaching lights. When she looked back at him the tears had begun to run down her cheeks.

"Harry, I - I have to tell you something," she said, voice choking on her words.

"Ginny, we're going to be okay, someone's going to find us," he said, feeling the corner of his eyes beginning to wet.

"Please."

Slowly she raised a hand to cup his cheek. Beyond their tree, footsteps grew louder. Harry nodded.

"I've - I've always liked you; since we first met," she said, eyes shining in the light of their enemies wands. "No, even before that. I think - I think I might love with you."

"Ginny, I -"

The footsteps were almost upon them now; the light birthed a dark shadow over their hiding place.

"I just wanted to tell you that, before..." she said, and laughed weekly. "I thought I'd never have the courage."

Harry watched her face attentively. She was a very pretty girl. Even with soft makeup marred by tears, faced stained with dirt and ashes, and dozens of small cuts across her lips. Those things did not diminish her beauty in his eyes. And her eyes, which stared back at him so full of adoration, made it hard to look away.

He smiled against the flat of her hand, then took it in his own. Unminding of the people who were sure to be just above them now, he leaned in, bringing their faces together.

His lips touched hers, to taste the wetness and salt of her tears. He heard the sharp intake of her breath when she realized what he did, but instantly she relaxed and leaned into the kiss. They stayed like that for a long moment, enjoyed the feel of each other's skin and breaths, waiting for the inevitable moment when the wizards found them.

At long last Harry pulled back. Ginny's eyes were still closed, as she seemed to bask in the moment, hoping to prolong it into eternity, and her face was alight in a green hue that seemed to shine on her skin. No, not only Ginny. Glancing around, it seemed the whole forest had been painted in neon green. Standing just in front of his tree, a hooded wizard in black stared upwards at the sky. Harry followed his example.

There, shining among the stars like a macabre constellation was a colossal skull with a snake growing out if its mouth in the way of a tongue. For minutes Harry could not tear his eyes away, his gaze transfixed on the strange image. It felt… almost familiar to him. Only the sounds of dozens of cracks echoing in the forest brought his attention down to the ground. The wizard had disappeared (or disapparated), and so had the other points of wand-light among the tree-trunks.

000000000

After that, it did not take long for Ministry officials to pop into existence around the forest and camp. They did not take long to find Harry and Ginny and, setting a portkey for them, took the two teens away to a gathering of people ways off the World Cup moors.

As soon as they landed, wizards in white took Ginny away to treat her leg. The man who brought them slapped his back in a reassuring way, told Harry to look for someone he knew and marched away into the crowd. All around him, more and more people were being brought in by portkey, some unscathed like him, others severely hurt or barely alive.

Harry stumbled to his feet, apologizing as he bumped into someone, and tried to gather his bearings. The hill he stood upon was filled with wizards and witches of all ages talking with others in rushed voices, crying on their families' shoulders, or even standing about with empty or lost looks in their eyes. The crowded reflected his pwn apprehensive feelings since Bill had woken him hours earlier.

Staring ahead beyond the crowd, he saw the outline of the World Cup camp in the distance, the fire still burning bright and smoke spiralling into the sky. Above the forest, the skull shone a sick green, like a sign to warn you of death and danger.

Harry averted his eyes, gulping down the rising bile with effort. Just a few hours before they had been watching Viktor Krum catch the Snitch.

He walked among the people, seemingly lost, scanning the tear-stained faces of the crowd. There must have been thousands there, all clutching each other, hugging their friends and loved ones. But where were Harry's friends? There, in that haystack of humans, back in the Burrow by the way of Apparition, or…?

Eventually, he found his way to the area the injured were being treated. Hundreds of white mattresses were arranged over the grass, each with someone laying upon them; some had one or two white-clad wizards above them chanting a healing spell or another. Luckily for him, and for his heart, what he had been looking for was easy to spot.

Harry let out a breath he had been holding for a long while.

Six redheads circled a seventh one laying down on the ground. A bushy brown mane sat a few feet away, giving space for the family to check on their youngest. He walked closer, and she looked up at him.

"Harry!"

Six pairs of eyes turned to him as one. He had perhaps two short breaths before a body crashed onto him, almost taking him down. Her sobs filled his ears. Harry involved her in his arms, returning the tight hug as best he could. Through tousled red strands, he saw the relieved smiles on the faces of Mr Weasley and the others.

Rony stepped back, checking him out from head to toe. Tears fell down from swollen red eyes, clearing ash smeared cheeks. She smiled for a second, then scowled and punched him.

"Ouch!" Harry whined, massaging his arm. "What was that for?!"

"Where were you?!" Rony said, rubbing the back of her sleeves on her face to wipe away the wet streams.

"Sorry, I kinda just lost my way I guess," he said. She punched him again. "Stop that!"

"I'll stop when you stop being stupid!"

Mr Weasley walked up to them. He watched Harry with something akin to pride.

"Harry, are you alright?" he said, voice heavy.

"I'm okay, Mr Weasley, thank you."

"Harry, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head in shame. "It all happened so fast - one moment we getting ready for sleep, the next everything was going up in flames, I - I told Bill to take you kids to the emergency point the Ministry set and went to help them. I wanted to go back to look for you, but before I knew they had taken everyone here, and we couldn't leave -"

"They cast an Apparition Jinx here, no one goes in or out without a portkey," Rony added quickly.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry nodded. "It's okay, Mr Weasley. I'm just glad we got out," he said, remembering the black-clad man walking closer to his hideout. He wasn't sure what would have happened had he found them.

Mr Weasley put a hand on his shoulder and gave it squeezing. He smiled tightly for a moment. The older man led them back to the family.

Hermione jumped to hug him as well as soon as he got close enough, also examining to make sure he was whole.

"I'm okay, Hermione," he said, trying to push her hands away.

"Are you? You're not hurting anywhere?"

"Yeah, I'm good," said Harry. His gaze fell on the girl laying on the mattress, eyes closed and deeply asleep. "How's Ginny?"

Charlie was the one who answered, "The healers mended her leg bones and fixed the tissue. They gave her a Sleep Draught for the pain; she should wake up tomorrow."

"Harry, what happened?" said Hermione.

He told them what transpired after he woke outside the tent up until the Ministry picked them up in the forest, leaving out his encounter with the strange woman and the kiss he shared with Ginny.

"The attackers disapparated when they saw the Dark Mark you say?" said Mr Weasley.

"The what?" Harry said.

"The Dark Mark, Harry," Hermione said. "You-Know-Who's symbol. _Rise and Fall of Dark Arts_ says he used it during the first war."

"He and his followers used to cast it whenever they killed someone," continued Mr Weasley, staring up at the green skull on the horizon. "It was everyone worst nightmare… arriving home and finding that hoovering your house..."

"So Voldemort - sorry, You-Know-Who is the one behind this?" said Harry.

"That's not a certainty, Harry," said Bill. "Why did they take so long to cast it? You said they left after that, right? Why? Besides, it's been a long time since they were active; why here, why now? Could simply be someone impersonating them, trying to brew terror."

 _The game is just beginning_ , Harry remembered the auburn-haired woman's words.

0000000

The day had dawned by the time the Ministry allowed them to return to the Burrow. A borderline hysterical Mrs Weasley tackled them as soon as they set foot through the front door, checking and hugging them all in turn to make sure of their safety. Her heart all but broke when she saw her youngest daughter limping and leaning on her father to walk. She burst into tears on the recollection of the night's events and hugged Harry so hard he could hardly breath when she heard of his effort to save Ginny.

The next couple of days were as if a dark cloud hung over them. The Ministry - and its employees by extension - received no rest from the press, who took to agonize over the World Cup Episode, as they took to calling it. Though the great majority of attendees managed to escape in time, the final number of dead and gravely injured was not small by any measure. Luckily, his and Ginny's wand were found among the destruction and returned to them. Mr Weasley spent more time away in the Ministry than in the house. Charlie and Bill returned shortly to their jobs, and Percy did the as his father, spending his days in Mr Crouch's department. As a result, Harry, Rony, Hermione, the twins, and Mrs Weasley were the only occupants of the house most of the time.

The trip to Diagon Alley came and went. The days passed. Harry had Mrs Weasley amazing breakfast in the morning, played Quidditch in the afternoon, and talked with Rony and Hermione until late in the night. Ginny's attitude towards him was unchanged for the most part, and he almost forgot their kiss under the trees.

But she didn't.

A particularly warm afternoon a couple weeks before September, after Fred and George had left to visit their friend Lee Jordan, Mrs Weasley sat in the living room downstairs knitting socks, and Rony and Hermione had secluded themselves to the girls' room for undisclosed reasons. Harry had just taken a bath and finished dressing when the soft click of the twin's bedroom door locking reached his ears. Harry, who had his back turned to it, spun on his heels to the sight of one Ginny Weasley leaning against the wooden frame, sheepish eyes locked on him.

Harry pushed his shirt all the way down to cover his abdomen before fully turning to the girl.

"Hey, Ginny," he said.

Her eyes took a second to travel up to his face. "Hi, Harry, I… I've wanted to talk to you," she said, the pink of her tongue flashing over her lips.

His eyes were to the door for a moment before going back to her. "Sure."

"It's about the..." Ginny said, "...the World Cup. You still haven't given me your answer."

"Ginny..." he began and looked away, unable to find the words.

What words did he want to use? He hadn't replied to Aunt Petunia's declaration of love. He hadn't loved her the way the Geass made her love him. And he knew he didn't love Ginny that way either. Oh, he knew the Geass was affecting her by now, he had no illusions of the contrary. The girl had always had a small crush on him, that had always been obvious, but it had actually begun to recede as the novelty of being around him wore off over the years. However, it had come back full throttle that summer, culminating in that moment in the forest and all the flushes and glances the days after it. What else could it be but the work of the Geass? Yet, did he want to throw it away, especially now that it was his fault?

"It's 'no', isn't it?" she said with a rueful smile. "You don't have to lie."

"No, Ginny!" he said quickly, stepping forward. "It's not 'no', it's just… not yes."

"Not 'no' and not 'yes'?" She looked confused. Step by step, she closed the distance between them until no more than a foot separated them and he could smell the coconut fragrance of her shampoo. "What is it then?"

"I'm - I'm not sur-" he began, as she stepped closer.

"Why don't we confirme it then?" she said, breathe brushing his skin, lips coming ever nearer.

He didn't protest when she kissed him. He let the oh so soft feeling of her lips brushing against his envelop his mind. Their first kiss was a wet, solemn experience as Harry accepted her and gave a last gesture of kindness before his demise. Though not lacking for affection, this one was different, as Harry felt the familiar heat of arousal in his lower parts.

He felt her hands reach for his face, cupping both his cheeks, pulling him toward her, and he understood she wanted to be closer. He clenched her hips and pressed her body against his, savouring the softness of her small chest. Immediately, her arms encircled his neck, and she rose up to stand on her toes. She licked his lips, and Harry almost smiled at her boldness but opened his mouth to allow her entrance.

At once, Harry knew Ginny was a hungry girl. His previous lover had been experienced, and that showed by her expert exploration of his cavity. But where Aunt Petunia had been sensual expertise, Ginny was explosive eagerness. Once inside, her tongue darted all around, exploring, tasting, and rubbing against his own tongue.

They were forced to part for lack of air. Arms still around his neck, forehead glued to his and taking deep breaths, she smiled at him like he was the sun itself.

"Ginny, that was great," he managed to push out, just as breathless.

Her smile became a satisfied grin, and she jumped on his lips again. Once more their tongues fought, attacked each other in a deadly dance. Hungry. Impatient. Harry found his hands tired of being idle. Pleasant position as they had, grasping at her slim waist, they wanted to go free, to roam that body he was sure felt like silk in flesh. Tentatively, they travelled up, counting her little ribs.

His left hand was bold and went down again, just to sneak under the fabric and feel the heat of her body on his own skin. She shuddered at his touch as he traced her bones. His right was bolder. His fingers had reached the underside of the tougher fabric of her bra, Harry took a second to make up his mind and cupped her tit in a single motion. He squeezed once. She moaned in his mouth, and that was enough to draw out his erection.

"Eek!" Ginny gasped, pulling away from him. She stared down at his bulging crotch.

"Sorry about that," he said, tone completely unapologetic.

She stared at it for a couple seconds, cheeks tinged with red. "I-It's okay."

"Do you want to touch it?"

Her eyes darted to his before going back down. "Can I?"

"Yes," he said, voice rough with lust, and waited for her to move. He would not take her hand to it; if she did it herself it would mean they could go even further.

Her hand began to move and little by little it closed the distance to his erection. Her fingers ghosted over it, the warmth of her flesh radiating to his own, getting stronger just as she-

"GINNY!"

They jumped away from each other in shock as Mrs Weasley's yell from downstairs echoed through the house. Ginny looked back at him, eyes darting to his now softening cock for a split second, and bit her lip.

"I... should go see what she wants," she said.

"Yeah," Harry said.

She nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

With small steps, she walked to the door. She opened it but stopped at the archway. She turned to him, eye's expectant.

"Talk to you later?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'd like that."

She smiled shyly and closed the door. Her quick steps down the stairs echoed back to the room.

Harry laid on one of the twins' bed, contemplating of had just happened. He had kissed Ginny again, his best friend's sister, and would have done more if Mrs Weasley hadn't called her down. He stared at the hand that had touched her soft breast mound. He could almost feel it again on his palm. Merlin, but her body had felt so good in his hands. How long since he last had sex? One week? Two? His balls were almost itching with need.

He sighed and threw his head onto the pillow.

00000

Even without Fred and George in the house, dinner in the Burrow was always a lively affair. Mrs Weasley had prepared Harry's favourite again - the second time that week - and kept asking him to take more onto his plate. Mr Weasley had engaged Hermione in an enthusiastic conversation on the proper usage of rubber chickens, and Rony talked to him about her expectations for the coming Quidditch league. The only one to eat in complete silence was Ginny. Until the end of the meal, their eyes kept catching each other's every now and then and held for a few seconds.

That night, Mrs Weasley took Rony and Hermione back to their room earlier than usual, leaving Harry to sleep alone. Without constant chatter to distract him, his mind found its way back to the lithe body of the Weasleys' youngest. Her glossy pink lips, her straight red hair, the freckles that run down all the way inside her shirt, the budding mounds at her chest, the narrow waist, and even her smallish bubble bum. Merlin, but he wanted her. The first-year whom he had saved from the Chamber of Secrets and who had a crush on him for the longest time, he wanted her. He had to have her. From the first time in perhaps months Harry stroke himself to climax.

On the next day, the previous night's orgasm and the dawn of the new day didn't do much to improve Harry's situation. They didn't sedate his need for the shorter redhead in the slightest. All through the day, he stole glances at her whenever she was in the vicinity, outright checking the girl out when other people appeared to be looking away. Ginny herself caught him a few times, though she would only smile slightly and continue about her business. It only drove him madder.

His time came somewhere in the afternoon. They were all hanging out in the living room, Harry and Rony sitting on the couch with a wizard chessboard between them, Hermione on a chair under the window with _Arithmancy For The Mind_ open on her lap, and Ginny making for a distracting sight, sitting on the opposing couch with her bare legs pushed against her chest while she played with one of her twin brothers' gadgets. At one moment, Mrs Weasleys walked into the room and addressed her youngest daughter.

"Ginny, please go get some apples for me on the apple-tree, a dozen should do for the pie," she said.

Harry expected the girl to protest, something not unusual for all the children when Mrs Weasley told them to do something, but she immediately put her toy aside and rose up from her seat, making for the front door.

"Sure, mum," she said. Mrs Weasley, Rony, and Hermione raised their eyebrows in synchrony.

Before walking out of the house Ginny stopped and glanced about the room, her eyes lingering on Harry's for a second longer, then she left. Mrs Weasley looked lost for a moment as if it baffled her order had been obeyed that easily and wondering if there was a catch to it, before returning to the kitchen. Rony shrugged and returned her attention to their game, and so did Hermione's to her book. But Harry's didn't. Harry knew that look. It looked all too likely the ones Aunt Petunia gave him when she wanted him to follow her into somewhere for something other than chores.

But how could he act on it? There lay Rony right in front of him, and Hermione sat just by the door; what kind of excuse would he have to give for him to walk out without raising suspicions that he would be following the little devil outside? Almost at once the answer dawned on him, and he smiled to himself.

"Sorry, Rony, I need to go to the bathroom, can we hold up the game for a bit?" he said, faking a grunt.

"Oh, sure, take your time," she said, cheeks reddening.

He raced up the stairs in quick steps but didn't make for the loo, instead of barged into his room. He stayed just long enough to retrieve the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk and throw it over himself, before sneaking down to the living room. Both girls were still there, sat where they had been. Rony toyed with one of the pieces looking bored, and Hermione was absorbed in her book.

Now, how to open the open the front door? Surely they would notice it opening by itself with no one walking in or out, and it wasn't a secret he had an Invisibility Cloak. They weren't stupid. Then how? He ruminated on a solution for about a minute, until his eyes fell on the fireplace.

Trying to not make a sound, he walked to it and, making sure the girls' eyes were fixed somewhere else, he grabbed some of the floo powder. The fire wasn't lit, would it still work? _Only one way to find out_ , he decided and threw it inside.

At once the fireplace roared in green flames that licked at the edge of Harry's cloak. The girls' heads snapped at it.

"Is your mother expecting someone?" Hermione said.

"Not that I know of," Rony said.

While their eyes were glued to the flames, waiting for someone to walk out of them, Harry took that moment to tiptoe to the door, opening it with utmost care. He almost thanked Merlin out loud when it didn't creak. He left it slightly opened - easier for them to think Ginny left it like that later than risk the noise of closing it and bring attention to the door - and ran into the backyard where he knew the Weasleys had a couple different trees for fruits.

With the basket by her feet, Ginny stood near the tree's trunk, arms stretched upwards, choosing the better apples to pick. Harry walked closed.

He took the cloak off in a swift motion.

"I was begging to think you wouldn't come," said Ginny, turning to face him.

He did not reply. He took her in his arms and pushed her against the trunk.

Her back hit the wood with muffled 'thud', as Harry covered her body with his. He kissed her, and she kissed him back with a hunger that delighted him. It was almost like they hadn't done the same less than twenty-four hours before. Her fingers found their way to his hair, scratching his scalp in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Harry's hands, in turn, lost no time in exploring her body. He groped her breasts and caressed her naked thighs, enjoying the smooth skin.

His cock got the memo and soon stood in attention, pressing with impatience at her short jeans. She didn't pull away this time. Her hands travelled to his waist in a speed that astonished Harry, and she hesitated just a moment before letting her palm engulf the hardness over his pants. It was Harry's turn to moan.

Ginny broke the kiss.

"It's so… hard," she breathed, fumbling with his cock.

"Be gentler," he groaned. Her grip softened.

"Sorry."

Harry raised her chin and kissed her again. While she continued to massage his penis, his hands found their way beneath her shirt, rising, tickling as they went, until her bra stopped their advance. He sneaked the tip of his fingers beneath just enough to pull back the padding and pushed his palm over the naked flesh of her teats. Her nipples were hard enough to signal her aroused if that wasn't obvious enough, and Harry kneaded them, rubbing the little buds between his thumbs.

"Yes!" she moaned on his lips.

He took his mouth away from hers, descending to her neck, planting small kisses on the freckled porcelain skin. She moaned again ("Harry!") and brought a hand up to press his head harder against her body. He let go of her chest and seized the girl by her legs, lifting her up, pressing her up to the tree to help with her weight. He pushed his crotch against her own, and she pulled his hair to kiss him hungrily again.

They stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies. He felt her up as much he could, fondling her breasts, pinching her stomach, tickling her rib-line, clutching her arse. But when he moved to slid a hand inside her shorts, she pulled apart, pushing his shoulders away.

"Wait, Harry," she said, gasping for air. "Not here, someone might come."

"What - Ginny," Harry protested. "We can't stop now."

"We have to," she said, shaking in his grip until he put her down on her feet. She stepped away from him, running her hands over her clothes and hair, trying to smooth them. "Someone might come out the house."

Harry was incredulous. Hot and bothered, reason wasn't something he put much stock in at the moment. He looked around at his feet and picked the Invisibility Cloak from the ground.

"Here, let's just put this over us," he offered.

"Harry! Are you crazy?" she giggled.

Harry stared at her. "I'm serious."

"You aren't," she said, then took the cloak from his hands. "Give me this."

"What do you want it for?"

She folded it and stashed it inside the bucket together with the apples. She picked it up and closed in for a smooch on his lips.

"Tonight, you'll see." She grinned and spun on her heels to skip away back to the Burrow.

Harry watched her go, mouth hanging open.

"How am I supposed to get back in?!"

00000000

Luckily, it wasn't that hard to sneak back into the house. As soon as the girls left the living room, he sneaked inside, walking up the stairs in careful steps until he reached the twin's room. Later, Rony found him slouched over the bed, pretending to be asleep. He told her he had felt sleepy after returning from the bathroom earlier and just decided to take a nap. She just sat down and put his legs over her lap and began to chat away with him. Not for the first time, Harry was thankful his friend was not one to fret over small things.

The night did not come fast enough for him that day. Thoughts of Ginny kept finding their way to the forefront of his mind more often than not, and more than once Rony or Hermione kept asking why he kept glancing at the clock, and Ginny would just smirk at him from the other side of the room. That girl was turning out more wicked than he had realized.

Long after the house had retired for the night, he stared at the dark ceiling for hours. He wondered if perhaps he was being too expectant, if he wanted too much from the girl. She was a year younger than him after all, and coming to a boy's room when he was alone could only mean one thing, right? They had kissed properly only the day before. _Yeah, she's not coming_. Good to show the Geass wasn't all powerful like he thought. He rolled onto his side and prepared to fall asleep.

The creak of a door turning on its hinges reached his ears. Harry opened his eyes and sat up on Fred's bed, putting on again the glasses he had on the nightstand. His darkness-adjusted eyes saw only the bare room, the door hanging open. Then it closed by itself right before him.

The next moment, in what must have been a mirror of what the girl saw earlier, Ginny's body appeared out of thin air as the cloak slid off her form. In the dim moonlight coming from the windows, he could see she wore a quite short, pink nightgown that didn't reach the middle of her thighs. She also had her wand, which she pointed at the door.

" _Colloportus_ ," she said, then walked closer to the bed. "Did you know we can do magic close to adults?"

"I didn't," Harry admitted.

"The trace can't tell who casts the magic; I overheard dad saying that once," she told him. She let the wand fall to the ground.

"That's… convenient," Harry said. "Why didn't you tell the others?"

She got on the bed, crawling on her knees until she sat upon his waist. Her weight was delightful on his crotch. She rested her arms around his neck.

"Now why would I ever do that, Harry?" she said. "When they can so easily ruin the fun..." She kissed him then, their tongues dancing the dangerous dance she liked. She stopped when she felt the rising hardness under her butt. "You already are..."

Harry touched her knees gently, caressing the skin with the tip of his fingers. Slowly, he ran them along her thighs until he grasped the hem of her nightgown. Slowly, he raised the fabric up her body, unveiling its secrets inch-by-inch as he went. She wasn't completely naked beneath it as he had believed; a small cotton shorts guarded her female modesty, tight over the developing, widening hips. Her belly had just the smallest amount of baby fat, giving him an irrational urge to pinch it. She raised her arm so he could keep on his task, and her armpits might have been cut out from a baby's bum so smooth they looked. It made sense she wore no bra to sleep; Rony didn't, and he guessed they might be too uncomfortable to allow a good night's rest. Her breasts were not what one would call big, and he reasoned she would never be in the leagues of her sister or her mother, but they were in no way less beautiful for it. The size of apples, they were firm and perky, the small nipples a reddish-pink and erect with arousal. It made him smile her freckles flowed down from her neck, sprinkling the paleness of her teats.

"Sorry they're not as big as sis'," she said, surprisingly shy about it.

"They're beautiful, Ginny," he said. He brought his mouth close to them, before looking up into her eyes, "Can I?"

She nodded, the red on face clear even in the blue light of the moon. Gently, he took one the nipples in his mouth, and she gasped. He rolled the hardened flesh on his tongue, sucking while at it, and Ginny pushed his head against her chest, desperate to have more of herself inside him. Harry's hands roamed her body, enjoying the feeling of it. It amazed him how different her skin felt from Aunt Petunia's. Ginny was, what, twenty years younger than her? And it really showed. While the redhead did not have the fullness of body, or the scent of a woman his aunt had, her skin was much smoother, more delicate, and apparently completely devoid of hair below the neck.

He was brought back from his musings when Ginny pulled on his hair, taking his head away from her tit. Looking at the pair, he loved how the reddened and moist flesh contrasted with its so far unattended twin. She caught his attention by pressing her butt on his crotch, and Harry looked up at her.

"Can I?" she said and pressed down again to illustrated what she wanted. He withdrew from her and let her shift her weight back on his thighs.

Her gaze was fixed down there when he brought his hands to his pyjamas. Deciding to not make a show out of it, he grasped the elastic of the trousers and pushed it down in a single motion. His cock slapped against his stomach, free again for that sensation we only feel when we show ourselves to others. Ginny eyes widened a bit in what, Harry presumed, was her first live sighting of a penis.

"It's… bigger than I thought," she said.

"Thanks," he replied. "You can touch it if you want."

Shyly, she approached it with her hand, hovering above it for just a heartbeat before she grasped at it. In the beginning, it was like she was fumbling with a new toy, running her finger up and down, getting the feel of it, not quite sure of what she should do, or how to do it. But Ginny was a quick learner and pretty soon she had both her hands on his mast, pumping it with fervour, his pink cockhead flashing in the movement of her hands. She watched her actions with a mixture of curiosity and lust, her teeth biting hard on the lower lip.

Harry kissed her this time, to let her know he appreciated the effort, before going in for the kill.

"It feels better if you put it in your mouth," he whispered.

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, and she stopped the ministration of his cock, the meat still in her hands. " _Witch Weekly_ didn't teach how to do that," she said.

Harry pushed red strands away from her face, tucking them behind her ear, and she leaned in on his touch. "You'll do fine." That seemed to encourage her, and slowly and deliberately she lowered her head until her tiny nose hovered inches from his penis, her warm breath tickling the skin. He wondered if the smell of his sex excited her, the same way hers - and other women's - did for him. At the very least she didn't seem to hate it, as the little pink of her tongue came out and tasted the flavour of his cockhead with shy and quick licks that burned like fire. He groaned at the rough feeling and to further boost her confidence in the act. Needing no more than that, her licks became longer and bolder, often going from the base to the very tip, wiping the precum off the rough organ. She planted small kisses on his balls and played with them using her tongue, giggling as they bounced around. She was having a surprising amount of fun pleasuring his cock. "You have to suck, Ginny," he told her, then grabbed her hair, gathering the strands together to form a ponytail behind her head, clearing her face from all obstacles.

She took the head first into her mouth, applying suction and rolling her tongue around the shaft. Harry moaned and gave just the slightest of pushes down on her head. She took the hint, moving her lips along his length, rubbing them on the veins and skin of his boy-meat. Once again his cock was in heaven, stuck in a hot, moist cave. Harry had to force himself not to hold her head down and piston her face like he had done so many with his aunt. Her inexperience showed again when she stopped half-way down his size, unable to continue. She held the position though, using the techniques she had picked up so far.

It was good, for then, Harry was presented with an extremely enticing sight. Bent over his cock, Ginny was essentially on all fours, upper body pressing down and hips thrusting upward. Her naked, freckled, creamy white body showcased her girly, pubescent curves, made clearer by the slightly widening hips at the end. Hips these that encased her cute and pretty bubble butt. The pyjama shorts she wore were tight on her, pulled up to the beginning of her back, and the fabric at the end was stuck inside the crack of her arse, revealing cheeks the colour of snow. Unable to contain himself, Harry freed one hand from her locks, leaving the job of holding them up for the other, and inclined forward. He grasped one side, squeezing the flesh in his hand, feeling the impossible softness. He did the same to the other, but soon his fingers found their way between her legs, and he rubbed the place he knew her pussy would be, enjoying how wet it was.

Ginny moaned on his cock as her head went up and down, hands pumping on the length she couldn't take in her mouth and scratching his sack with her nails.

"Merlin, Ginny, you're a natural at sucking cock," he said, the lust speaking more than himself. She groaned, perhaps in agreement, and the vibrations almost pushed him over the edge. He let go of her arse and pussy, bringing his hand to take hold of her chin and pulled her face away from his cock. Her brown eyes had a sort of glossy look about them, but she beamed when they met his green ones, happy to have made him happy. _Merlin balls_. And in a burst of perverted inspiration, he grasped his dick and slapped her right cheek gently with it, wetting freckled vanilla skin with his misty precum and her sticky saliva. The little bint closed her eyes and bit her lower lip in satisfaction. She was getting off on it. "Rise up, Ginny," he said. She pushed herself up with her arms, and Harry rewarded her with a deep kiss. Then he spun them on the bed.

He laid her down on her back and, sustaining his body on his knees between her legs, took a moment to appreciate the sight. Her breasts, small and pointy, and their rock-hard nipples. Shoulders and neck as delicate as a child's. Red hair a blanket under her back. Eyes glued to the throbbing erection nestling between her thighs. Down at her crotch, her shorts were absolutely soaked - an enormous stain on the front that perfectly outlined her slit. Harry made for the hem of the shorts, but Ginny's hand's grabbed his own.

"W-Wait, Harry… I-I not sure I'm ready," she said, breathing quicker.

Harry let her maintain her grab on him, letting her keep some sort of control to abate her fear. He inclined his body over hers, intentionally poking her pussy with his cockhead, and kissed her gently. He felt her relax after a moment, and her grip on his hands loosen.

"Ginny, do you trust me?" he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. She hesitated but for a moment before nodding.

He pulled the fabric back slowly, his eyes never once leaving hers. Straightening his body, he held up the twin towers of ivory that were her legs as he brought up her knickers. He moved it past her feet and flung it over his shoulder. He spread her then, slowly and with care until he felt the mattress resist under her flesh. Only at that moment, he allowed his gaze to leave her brown orbs and roam down her body.

Her pussy was no more than a slit on her crotch, a tear between a mound of engorged flesh. No outstretched lips, no gash to the pink of her insides. It was a virgin pussy, untouched by any other man beside himself. In many ways, it was an unwrapped gift; one that would never be taken away from him. The thought made him even harder, straining the veins on his dick and bringing about an almost painful tightening in his balls.

He wanted her and he wanted her now.

He brought his cock close to her cunt, touching the snatch with the fat red mushroom. He slid it up and down a few times, coating his flesh in the girl-juice that leaked from inside her even then. Her breath picked up again, fear once again surfacing on the girl. Harry locked eyes with her.

"It's gonna be okay, Ginny." He let his body lay atop her and kissed her again. She locked her arms around his neck while he grasped her thighs. His cock now pushed against her entrance, feeling the flesh split with resistance. He soldiered on and very slowly pushed the length of his meat inside her.

She was incredibly, impossibly tight. The pressure of her velvety walls was so intense it caused _him_ pain as he advanced through her channel one millimetre at a time. He grunted together with her. She clutched his hips with her thighs, unconsciously trying to halt his movement, but only managing to spur him further. He kept on kissing her and massing her legs to distract her from the pain.

About half-way his length in, his cock bumped against a something. _That can't be her womb, right? It's too soon_. The feeling was different too. Aunt Petunia's womb, which he had knocked on many times, had a hard feel to it, much like a wall inside her saying 'this is the limit'. Ginny's blockage was somewhat elastic, like a membrane meant to be ripped. He broke their kiss, intending to ask her about it lest he actually hurt her. Her face was red, and her eyes closed tightly, while she breathed in short and sharp intakes of air.

"Ginny, c-"

"Yes!" she said. "It's okay! Just push it!"

Knowing she was in pain, he didn't want to prolong it more than necessary. He took his face close to her, plating small kisses along her jawline and around her ear, and let his weight slowly fall on her. The membrane gave away like a fabric tearing, and Ginny suppressed a scream. Harry felt for her, but he followed what she said and pushed, until their fronts touched, belly on belly and chest on chest and he felt the familiar hardness of her womb against his cockhead. He stayed like that for a minute, maybe two, to let her get used to the feeling.

"Ginny, I'm going to move now," he said and without waiting for her answer drew his hips back. He thrust again. The second time went much smoother, and he was able to reach fill her again much faster. Then he repeated. And again. And again. By the time he had developed a rhythm, she was panting, little moans coming from her mouth each time his balls slapped against the wetness below her cunt, and eyelids half-closed over cloudy orbs.

He grasped her hip bones and picked up the pace.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," moaned Ginny as Harry plunged into her, quickly approaching the speed he used to fuck Aunt Petunia with. It was a little insensitive of him perhaps, but he couldn't quite control himself at that point; not when her pussy struggled so delightfully with his cock, putting that delicious tight resistance. "Ah ah ah ah ahahahahahaha." He slammed into her, the wet sound other their genitals slapping together and her frantic moans echoing on the bedroom walls. He knew he was close when the pressure building up behind his cock threatened to burst.

"Ginny, I'm going to cum," he said, though he doubted she heard it, lost in a world of grunts and moans with eyes rolled to the back of her head. He didn't concern himself with it and let it out inside her pussy. He thrust one last time, grinding their crotches together, while the semen flowed down her channel and into her womb. She kept her eyes closed then, savouring the moment, a low grunt prolonging in her throat.

When he drew back, her members had gone limp, arms and legs falling to the bed in an exhausted fashion, and their hold on his body was gone. He rose to his knees again to peer at his handiwork. Their bodies were drenched in sweat; hers especially glistered in the moonlight coming from the windows, sparkles of silver all over the pink-whiteness of her skin, giving her an ethereal look.

His penis was painted red with the blood of her virginity, and for a moment Harry panicked that he might have really hurt her with his forcefulness until he heard a giggle coming from the girl.

"It's okay, Harry. The first time is supposed to be like that for us girls," she said, a relaxed smile on her lips. "It didn't hurt that much."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Did you like it?"

"Oh, yes," she said, once again relaxing against the sheets. She touched the flesh on her stomach just below her bellybutton. "It's warm."

"Sorry to do it inside," he said.

"It's okay, _Witch Weekly_ has a few spells for that," Ginny said. There were a few moments in witch Harry watched the rising and falling of her chest before he spoke.

"You didn't cum though."

Ginny frowned. "I'm… not sure."

But Harry thought if a girl came she would be able to tell. Hell, _he_ was able to tell when Aunt Petunia came on his cock. He found he didn't like that Ginny hadn't, even if it was her first time. He took his penis in his hand and brushed it on her thigh to clean the blood on her skin. By the time he was done his penis was already hardening. Ginny was looking inquisitively at him.

"Ginny, just relax, okay?" he said, grasping both her legs. "I want you to think only of my cock in your pussy, alright?"

She didn't reply but did loosen her muscles. Harry stretched her legs up then down against her until her ankles were almost parallel to her head. His hunch she had an extremely flexible body was correct. Crotch all spread for him, he took a moment to get a look at her little anus. Pink and closed, it looked like a hair wouldn't be able to go through. He licked his lips, but decided to move on; it was a target for another time. He settled for lining up his dick with her still sopping cunt."Harry, what are you- HA!" He interrupted her by plunging into her pussy with one quick thrust.

He did not wait or give her any time to get used to it before he began slamming his hips as hard as he could without trying to break the bed. Ginny contained a scream in her hand again, this time biting hard into the flesh to stop her voice from coming out. But Harry could hear it, the low guttural grunt coming from her throat as he pistoned into her welcoming pussy. The harder he pushed, the harder it tried to keep him inside, the harder he pulled back, and the harder he pushed back in.

"Fuck, Ginny, your pussy is amazing," he grunted above her.

Her face was slick with sweat, red from embarrassment and the blood flowing to it, hair sticking to her forehead. Eyes again closed forcefully, teeth biting into her hand, and breath coming in short bursts. Harry found he liked the sight. He liked the sight of the girl being undone by pleasure, by the act of his cock being shoved inside and out of her little cave. She took her fist out of her mouth and opened her eyes to look at him.

"H..." she tried to say as her body bounced on the mattress from his weight settling on and out, "...ha..." she tried again, eyes misty, looking at him and not at the same time, "...har...harder...fuck me... harder..."

I was like something was unleashed within him. He bared his teeth and seized her head with his hands. Ginny had her mouth open, tongue hanging out lewdly. Harry caught it, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, driving his own tongue deep inside. And all the while he fucked her like a man possessed, thrusting until his cock knocked on her womb eachtime and his balls slapped loudly on her butt. It didn't take long before her lower body began to tremble in that old tell-tale of female orgasm approaching. He picked the pace one last time, also feeling his time coming, and when her hips seemed to have gained a life of their own he exploded inside her climaxing pussy.

He spent himself inside her again and fell down atop her body. Her legs unfolded, straightening back to their natural position below her waist. She was shuddering lightly under him, the remnants of her own orgasm still hitting her. Harry chuckled and rolled to the side, holding her so she could then lay over him. She was oddly silent at that moment, and he began to pat her head, hoping to calm her down.

Eventually, she stopped trembling, and he felt her arms going under his back to hug his body. She pressed her face against his chest.

"Ginny?" Harry said. She grunted meekly. "What are you doing?" She grunted again. "Are you… hiding?"

She lifted her head just enough so he could see her flushed face and embarrassed eyes.

"I came, didn't I?" she said. Harry nodded. "I looked ridiculous."

Harry couldn't help himself and laughed softly. Ginny scowled prettily at him.

"No, you didn't," he assured her with a kind smile. He reached down and planted a small kiss on her brow. "You looked beautiful, Gin."

Her face softened and she hid it again on his chest, though this time Harry could feel the smile playing on her lips. They stayed like that for a couple dozen minutes, just enjoying each other's skin and warmth.

Merlin, it was good to have sex again. Rubbing one out had nothing on it. The sensation, the intimacy, were aspects he could not find anywhere else. But what he really loved about it was the trust. It was something he had felt from Aunt Petunia. When they were together, he had felt that she trusted him with all her being, and he, in turn, could trust her. She was _his_ then. She belonged to him. And now again with Ginny. When he asked her to relax her body he knew he could have done whatever he wanted with her then. He could have had her cute little arsehole, and she would have allowed it. Such a thing was a drug to Harry, he realized, though he couldn't quite explain why.

A small hand down on his genitals brought him back from his thoughts, digits playing with his wet soft penis and sack.

"I thought penises would be scarier," she said, watching her own work down his loins then looked back at him. Harry raised an eyebrow. "No! I mean, I thought I wouldn't like it as much, but… I really do. It's fun."

"I'm glad you're having fun with my dick. Please go on, don't mind me."

Ginny giggled. "Sorry, I know it's not a toy. Can you… get it hard again? I kinda wanna put it in my mouth."

"I think I can, but..." he said, looking outside. Moonlight was beginning to dim. "You should probably go back to your room. Someone might wake up in the middle of the night."

Ginny pouted but didn't argue. Nonetheless, she bent down to plant a kiss on his cockhead. That stiffed him a bit, but she let go and made to rise from the bed. She stumbled when she got to her feet, and Harry hurried to catch her.

"Wow, you okay, Gin?"

She smiled shyly. "Thanks… my legs are a bit week I think."

"Sorry. Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit. I'll think I'll be somewhat sore tomorrow," she said, balancing herself on her legs.

"I wish I could help you with that," said Harry.

"Nah, don't worry, I'll be alright."

She then proceeded to search the bedroom for her clothes. Harry appreciated again her feminine girly curves as she bent and kneeled to look into the darkness. She found the tight shorts first and put them on, pulling the cloth as high as she could, forcing the fabric deep into the crack between her bum. Merlin, he already wanted to fuck her again.

When she was completely dressed in the nightgown and had found her wand, she walked back to him.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said. Despite her words, she sat at the edge of the bed, locked her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and hungrily.

"Goodnight," he said when they broke the kiss.

"Goodnight."

After she left, Harry had to look for his own clothes. He didn't want to sleep naked in the case Rony or Hermione decided to wake him up in the morning, which also reminded him of the smell of sex from the fluids on the bed. Remembering Ginny's words he cast a spell to vanish the evidence of their lovemaking. When he finally laid down he found himself exhausted. Exhausted, but satisfied. That night, he didn't dream of sex.

0000000000

"Harry? Are you there? You finished your bath already?"

"Just a moment, Hermione!"

"Well, I'd hurry up if I were you, Mrs Weasley will be serving dinner soon."

"'Kay, I'll be right there. Thanks!"

Retreating steps reached him through the closed door of the Burrow's bathroom. Harry threw his head back against the wall and breathed. Even time alone in the shower was a scarcity in the Burrow. He looked down to stare into the eyes of a kneeling Ginny between his legs. His cock in her mouth, she swung back and forth, tongue massaging his rod and applying suction as he had taught her. Her eyes watching his every move, his every reaction as if drinking in his sight. She hadn't stopped fellating him for a moment while Hermione was there, rather she had pinned him to the wall with her hands and sucked all the stronger for it. It made him wonder if the thought of having a penis in her mouth in less than five feet away from her friend excited her.

 _What a little slut._

Harry cupped her cheek. Perhaps she sensed he was about to cum because next she picked up speed, slapped his balls against her chin and let his cock hit her throat.

"I want you to swallow, Gin," he said without hesitation or shyness. He felt her nod and let go of his body. She stopped her movements and just held his shaft in her mouth as his cum streamed down her gulping throat. He spent himself in her stomach and relaxed, his penis softening. She still sucked a bit on it, to pull out the last drops before letting his meat slip out of between her lips. "Thanks, Ginny," he breathed out, the ecstasy of the orgasms still travelling through his body.

She beamed at him.

"You're welcome, Harry. I'll do it for you anytime you want," she said. The adoration in her words and in her eyes nearly took his breath away.

"Awesome," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

She rose to her feet and made for the door. She opened it slightly and peeked outside, to see if there was no one in the corridor. Just before she left, Harry reached out a hand a hand beneath her mini-skirt and squeezed one side of her soft bum. His fingers went inside her crack, to feel her little anus and the scanty panties she used for daily underwear. She didn't even flinch at the contact, just looked back at him with a lascivious smile.

"Come here," he said. She hopped back to him and threw her arms around his neck and caught him in a wet kiss. "See you later tonight," he said when they parted. She licked her lips and nodded. He smacked her arse and let her leave.

Life in the Burrow became even more fun after that night when he first had sex with Ginny. Were it not extremely suspicious to send a letter to Fred and George thanking them for deciding to spend the rest of the Summer at Lee's, Harry would have done so. Spending the night with Ginny became a nightly occurrence, and they would fuck until early in the morning. It followed something of a script every night: Rony and Hermione would stay in the room until about midnight just talking about Hogwarts things, Mrs Weasley would come get them, Harry would wait about one to two hours, then Ginny would come in his Invisibility Cloak. Sometimes in her nightgown, sometimes only in her underwear, most times already naked, but she would come and give herself to him. She never refused, she never denied him. At the end of the night she was sore and filled with cum and she thanked him for it.

He would not dare fuck her during daylight, afraid she may lose control of her voice and have them be discovered by someone on the act. But blowjobs were game as often as they could escape from the family, which sadly didn't happen with the frequency he wanted. Ginny had not been lying, she was happy and eager to swallow all the cum he unloaded on her mouth, though sometimes he let out on her face just to see it covering her freckles. She said many times she loved his semen and that it was simply delicious, although Harry doubted the bleach-smelling liquid could taste good when taken directly.

It didn't help the girl was a tease and nearly insatiable. Though he only recently began noticing her body, Harry was used to seeing the younger sister of his best friend walk around the house in her shorts and mini-skirts. He had always thought it a personal choice of the girl just to contrast with her sister, who preferred long pants. But seeing her flaunting her legs and the underside of her butt to him every chance she got, it occurred to him her choice of attire might have never been that innocent. She was impossible. She would bend, stretch her legs on the couch, cross them, do whatever she could to get him to look at her. Harry could swear he caught Hermione scowling at the girl more than once. Ginny pretended not to see it.

But he always got back at her later at night. And it was one of these retribution sessions - after a day when Ginny had elected to not wear underwear at all and flashed him her pussy through a mini-skirt whenever she could - Harry decided to have all of her.

It was a night a couple days before they would return to Hogwarts and Harry and Ginny were on the bed, naked and mating. She was on all-fours, head against the pillow, moaning, and butt thrust into the air like a whore. Harry balanced himself on his knees and grabbed her hips as he plunged into her harder and harder. His eyes feasted on the curvaceous shape of her body provided by the position, her freckled pale neck and shoulders, and the round arse presented to him. But especially he watched the pink ring of her anus twitch as his pelvis collided with her flesh. Harry had told himself he would only attempt to fuck it when it was able to host three of his fingers, though he knew he was larger than that. Perhaps that one was the night.

He stopped his motions and grasped her white buttcheeks. He spread them, and from below he heard a sharp intake of breath. She always did so when he was about to do what he was about to do. But she didn't tell him to stop. She never did. First, he ran his hand over his shaft, to coat it with her juices, then, slowly, he brought his index finger to the rim of her little hole, touching and poking. She had it closed with strength, but after he traced the round contour a few times he saw her relax and loosen the muscle for him.

Slowly again, he pushed the point inside, then to the second junction, then sometime later to the knuckle. It was tight and warm there and felt strange to the finger, but he loved it nonetheless. She had clutched her muscle again after he finished with the first digit. He scratched the wrinkled flesh with his middle finger, and she loosed again. The second went like the first and soon he had two digits fully inside her. She was breathing hard then. Harry touched her with his ring finger, and she looked back at him, hair sticking to her sweaty face and eyes in a strange mixture of fear and lust. The third went in, worming its way along the channel until it joined its brothers.

Harry left them there for a moment to feel her warmth, then retracted them. The hole closed and went back to its regular size as soon as they were out. Harry imagined what it would be like to see it gaping open for him, a wide ring to gaze into her insides. The thought stirred something in his loins. _Fucking hell, I'm a pervert_. With a cock as hard as iron he decided he could wait no longer. He stuck it in her cunt one last time to coat his flesh with her juices, which were plentiful. The task done, he regarded his long-time buddy and judging it well lubricated he aligned it with her back entrance. She snapped her head back at him again, eyes truly wide now. Harry ran a hand on a buttcheek and the small of her back.

"You were bad today, Ginny," he said, a perverse smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "Showing me your pussy in the middle of the living room. Why did you do that?"

He grasped her waist with a firm grip, though she was making no attempts to flee.

She turned her face and buried it in the pillow. "I wanted you to...fuck me..." came her muffled voice. "I wanted to have sex with you..."

"You know we can't do it during the day," he said, again the lust taking over. "You wanted to tease me, didn't you? Running around without panties and flashing me your cunt like a whore."

For a moment, when she didn't say anything, he thought he had gone too far, but then he heard a chuckle coming from the mass of red strands over the pillow.

"I'm a whore then hmm..." she said. "So are you going to fuck this whore's arse or not?"

Harry grinned. He loved that about her. That fire. She was daring. Audacious. Dauntless. Aunt Petunia was a passionate lover, but he always got the feeling she enjoyed sex more for the contact, the shared experience of it. Ginny, on the other hand, seemed to _adore_ having sex, to be stuffed with cock and filled with sperm, be it in her womb or stomach. She was only thirteen and just about a week without being a virgin. Harry could only imagine how she would be with more time and experience. Experience which he was glad to help her with.

He pushed his dick into her butt hole. It stretched and pushed him back. Below, Ginny punched the mattress repeatedly while groaning through the pillow she was biting. Harry pushed the rest of his length inside and only stopped when his pelvis touched her butt. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the feeling of extreme tightness that hole provided. He was back in his favourite place.

A squeeze on his dick brought the boy back to the world. He pulled it back until only the head remained inside then thrust it back in. Ginny whimpered and her whole body shuddered. Harry did it again and kept doing so until her whimpers turned to moans. Her legs gave out, and she fell down on her belly. Harry followed her, burying himself again in her arse. He enclosed her with his arms and let his weight settle atop her, moving only his hips to continue the fucking.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," she moaned with each thrust, "ah, ah, ah, Merlin this is so, ah, good, ah, ah, ah, ah."

Harry was planting small kisses along her shoulder, up to her neck, and then to her ear, of which he proceeded to lick inside and whisper, "Your arse so good, Gin, I can't stop fucking it."

"Ah, ah, ah, you cock too, ah, is so good, ah, I love it, I love you," she said. "Harry, aaahh, what, ah, what are we?"

 _What?_

"Ginny, I'm going to cum, okay?"

"Ah ah ah ah, please - please, inside me."

And with one last, resounding plunge he came inside her rectum. He waited for the spurts to stop coming before he took it out. The sex had been good - too good - and he only had enough strength to spin her body on itself and let Ginny land on her back before the post-orgasmic tiredness settled in. He fell on her body, and she accepted him with open arms and a look of complete adoration in her eyes. He fell asleep seconds later, with the feeling of her fingers running through his hair.

00000000

What were they?

The question stayed in Harry's mind through much of the next days. There he was, making love with Ginny on a daily basis and all. Merlin, the other day he had fallen asleep together with her. It was by a miracle she had woken up before morning and returned to her room. Were they a… couple? It had been different with Aunt Petunia. They were family, aunt and niece, and she was married. The thought of being something else with her never even crossed his mind. But Ginny wasn't his sister, or his cousin, or anything. She was a just girl his age who had proclaimed she had feelings for him.

Was he… using her?

Without even considering the effect the Geass had on her (perhaps the only one in the house to be affected, from his observations, though he had no way to be sure), the girl sort of always had a crush on him. Was it right to act on that knowledge and indulge in her body? The fact she even asked him that question told him she was not okay with just being his sexual outlet. She would not stop having sex with him if he did nothing, he was sure, but was it… right? Maybe she would say nothing more of the matter and just be hurt inside if he never acknowledged her feelings.

That bothered Harry. Alone, sitting on the couch in the living room with the fourth-year Defence book in his hands, he could not chase away these thoughts from his head. It was not like he didn't like Ginny. She was fun to be around, especially after they started meeting each other and she started being more outspoken in front of him.

With these thoughts in mind that Harry made his decision and, seeing Mr Weasley walking into the kitchen, chose to follow him.

"Mr Weasley," he said, walking through the archway. He stood awkwardly behind a chair and waited for Mr Wasley, who looked to be searching for something inside the cupboard, to turn to him.

"Oh hey, Harry," he replied.

"Mr Weasley, I - I want to talk to you."

Mr Weasley frowned for a second. "Sure, Harry, what do you want to talk about?"

Harry shifted on his feet. He ruminated for some moments and found there was no easy way to go about this. He faced Mr Weasley and decided to just go through with it.

"Mr Weasley, I think Ginny and I like each other," he said. "I want to ask your permission to date your daughter."

There was a moment of silence when Arthur Weasley just stared back at the boy, then the sound of breaking glass came from behind Harry, and the man looked beyond him. Harry twisted on his feet to see.

Standing under the archway, shattered jar at her feet and pumpkin juice spilt on the floor, wide-eyed and all blood drained from her face stood one Rony Weasley.


End file.
